Uncharted Desires (Rafe Adler x Reader)
by MoonlitLagoon
Summary: Rafe Adler has an enticing request for you, one that involves a bit of treasure hunting, thwarting a pesky pair of Drake brothers, and an unexpected and dark romance. Leave your normal life behind and experience something only thieves can. Follows the events of Uncharted 4. (AU)
1. Chapter 1

_**"...the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible." **_

_**-**__**T.E Lawrence**_

* * *

Pirates utterly entranced me.

Particularly so when it came to the legendary Henry Avery. While I knew only of the legends regarding the fabled pirate, my fascination for the man deepened the more I dug into his stories. Perhaps it was simply because I had grown up with movies featuring pirates and treasure seekers. Or maybe it was because I craved a life ripe with stimulation.

Don't get me wrong. I loved my job. But even I had to admit that while designing clothes was fun, the hours drove me near insane, the pay wasn't anything I'd imagined it to be and I wasn't allowed much creative freedom in my work.

I stared down at a series of rejected sketches I'd submitted to my director.

Shelly, one of my coworkers and good friends, stopped at my desk with a tray of coffee. Her vanilla body spray mingled with the heavenly scent of coffee beans and woke me right up. She handed me a steaming styrofoam cup and I chugged the office-brew down.

"Good God that's gorgeous," she breathed, stopping at the sight of one of the dresses I'd designed. It was a sea-foam gown tastefully festooned at the bodice with rose gold quartz that smoothed into a train of mesmerizing sapphire jewels and layered with sheer silver gauze. "I swear if we went with your designs we'd be on the runway to Paris about now."

I shrugged. "Can't really complain when we get killer trips to go on."

This most recent excursion - or more appropriately termed, 'business trip', was a getaway to Italy. I'd already mapped out every roll of fabric and every spool of thread we'd need to showcase this month at the gala. I should've been excited about presenting my portfolio. Instead, I was giddy at the prospect of something more: after excruciatingly saving up my vacation days, I'd managed to pin down an extra day with which to attend a special auction at the Rossi Estate.

Absent-mindedly, I doodled on the corner of the rejected design.

Shelly swung back her glossy, strawberry-blonde curls over a shoulder and set down the tray of coffee near my elbow on the table. Her coral nails gleamed as she leaned down to sift through my work. "Have you considered joining a different company? You have talent."

She had a full three years of experience on me and every submission she sent in was accepted. But nothing made her happy. Everything she made was just to comply with the quota and it was showing in the form of lines stretching down the corners of her mouth and in the furrow between her brows. So seeing my work, as she'd once said, filled her with inspiration to branch out.

Before I could respond she stood upright and gasped. "Oh, shit. Did you finish that woman's order? I completely forgot that was for today."

I reclined back in my chair and stretched my arms above my head. "The orange monstrosity? Right over there."

Shelly moved around me to run her fingers down the length of the gown hanging on the rack beside me. "Thank God. It's really ugly though. Who wears orange to prom? Anyway, you should fight back a little. The higher-ups just rake in all you interns and after they've rooted you into their little company just as they want you, you never get to move up."

I couldn't argue with her there. The second you realized that you were being used and you wanted more control over your situation, they magically discovered budding new talent in the form of starry-eyed youths pouring in from different art colleges. And you just had to grin and bear it if you wanted to keep your job.

"Well just make sure everything is finished today, alright? Thank God for Italy."

"Tell me about it," I laughed, blowing away the strands of hair that had stuck to my lip gloss. "Are you all packed?"

She nodded.

With a sigh, I said, "This is going to sound dumb but...sometimes I wish I'd chosen a different career." Rubbing circles into my temples to dull the ache, I stacked all of my rejected work into a neat pile and shoved them into my desk.

"Don't we all," she murmured and sipped her own cup of joe. "What would you choose?" she asked me as I flipped through my sketchpad for a blank, clean page.

For a moment I hesitated. Would she think my choice was stupid? Most people did. With some reluctance, I admitted, "A treasure hunter. Or something along those lines. What about you?"

Shelly did laugh, but it wasn't mean-spirited. "Like Nathan Drake, huh? That man's been all over the news lately. I wonder if it's true. One man accomplishing all he's done without hired help…"

With a smack of her barbie-pink lips, she tossed the empty coffee tray into the trash and said, "Anyway, we'll leave in two hours."

"Aye aye," I saluted her with mock seriousness. I scooted my chair closer to my desk's laptop and clicked onto the Rossi Estate's main page. I should've busied myself by working on another design but I was so worn out after months of no luck. And frankly, I wasn't sure I wanted this job.

The website featured an auction, and the star of said auction was _the_ Saint Dismas cross. I'd never be able to afford it, of course. But just to be near a piece linking to Henry Avery himself was enough to set my pulse at a gallop.

I had no idea that choosing to attend this event would change my life entirely.

* * *

The moment we landed in Sorrento, Italy, I wasted no time in pinpointing the exact location of the fabric stores we needed to visit. I called a cab and we were on our way. The sooner we completed our errands, the sooner we could relax and partake in the fine dining our company had paid for us to enjoy.

Shelly ranted throughout the ride about how the man she'd sat beside on the flight had done nothing but ogle her. I listened to her vent, all the while taking in the breathtaking view from within the car.

The cliffside dropped away from us and spread down into a glittering lapis lazuli sea. While the infamous Amalfi Coast itself was on the other side of the peninsula and housed the Rossi Estate, I was already enamored with this little sliver of Italy. I rolled down the window to peer down at the ocean.

It was humid and the air was laced with tangy lemons and low-tide, mingled with the sweat wafting off of tourists and residents alike. People were everywhere. They bustled along the sidewalks, lingered under awnings to escape the sun and they swarmed in front of every storefront.

"I've never seen so much color in one place," I breathed, admiring the rainbow-like smattering of buildings. They were narrow and tall, mediterranean in style, and they piled atop one another all the way up to the crest of the hills above us. Far away in the distance, bathed in golden sunbeams and heat waves, more colorful buildings peppered the cliff sides nearly all the way down to the ocean waves.

"Can you believe he thought it was alright to ask me if my feet smell like musk? The nerve!" Shelly exclaimed, blotting her forehead with a wipe. "He's lucky he went to Rome." Our driver glanced at my friend through his rearview mirror.

"Sounds like he had a foot fetish," I said. I'd fallen asleep on the flight so I hadn't been witness to this nightmare passenger but at least we were far away from him.

Though the cab was ventilated, the humidity was a different story entirely. I'd expected it, and had even warned Shelly beforehand that she'd need to be careful in choosing her clothes, but to her, beauty came before comfort. I admired her for that. I just didn't have the patience to keep myself put together at every second of the day.

The driver pointed to my right and said, "That's the one. See the display there?"

"Thank you!" I said, dialling one of my coworkers. Peter had landed in Italy yesterday to book us a hotel room. He was also preparing to submit his portfolio for the gala this month.

He spoke at a sloth's crawl, elongating each syllable until you were certain he was attempting to lull you to sleep. "Alright then," he paused for effect and I fought the urge to fill the silence. "I'll be in the next room over. Your luggage was just checked in..." Then he clicked off.

"Bye," I said to the dead end and shared a look with Shelly, who rolled her eyes. "Let's hurry so we can grab a bite," I declared excitedly, handing the driver our company's money. If I'd had to take that out of my own paycheck I'd have gone crazy.

As the roads were so crowded, our driver was unable to park directly at our destination. But he stopped close enough. The _Linomania_ was a little salt-white building with a scalloped, pale gold sunshade shielding the entrance from the sun. If not for our driver, we'd have missed it. As we stepped outside into the blazing heat and sunbaked streets, I drank in the perfumed air. Lemons and fish. My stomach growled.

"Wow, this is the one?" Shelly asked, sauntering forward in her blinding white stilettos. She paused before the storefront to admire the mannequins on display. They wore beautiful azure and salmon-pink swathes of flowing sundresses and elegant straw hats.

"Careful," I said as her eyes began to twinkle. Shelly always got that look when she was about to go on a shopping spree, the likes of which left her nursing a beer at the end of the day, tears streaming down her face in the wake of buyer's remorse. "We've got a few stops before you can go wild."

And wild Shelly went. By the time we checked into our hotel two hours later, laden with over a dozen bags filled with both the supplies we'd come for and everything Shelly had bought for herself, Peter had left us to explore Italy by himself.

So it was a girl's night out. Thank God, if Peter had tagged along I'd have gotten myself drunk. Together, Shelly and I walked down the winding streets to find a restaurant.

_Il Buco_ had been on my list of priorities and I was glad that Shelly loved wine, for this restaurant was once the cellar of an old monastery. The instant I told her as much she agreed to eat there.

Dressed in simple jeans, comfortable brown boots and a yellow blouse, I settled down at a table with my friend and guzzled down a glass of water. The instant I downed it, a busser came over to refill my glass.

Shelly had ditched her shorts and tank top for a cocktail dress to match her stilettos. I marvelled at how she could walk all day in them, especially when Sorrento was a city of stairs and winding cobblestones made for snapping off heels. Somehow she didn't even look sweaty, though I knew she was dying just as much as I was.

"Do you think I'm underdressed," I leaned forward and whispered to her.

My friend passed a single glance over me and said matter-of-factly, "Very. I told you before we left. But we're foreigners. We can get away with it."

I gulped down another glass of water and self-consciously glanced around the room. The restaurant was small but chic. The tables were draped in satin tablecloths, the lighting was soft and the music was distinctly elegant. Everywhere I looked, people were dressed to the nines in fancy suits and classy gowns. Even the staff wore expensive-looking uniforms.

You'd think, me being a fashion designer, that I'd care more about my presentation.

Shellye's lips curled up at the corners as she fixed an appraising look at a table of men. Men that looked as if they'd popped out of the womb with a silver spoon in their mouths and a rolex on their wrist. "What a meal."

I snorted. "Save the desert for later."

She laughed and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. "The man in the middle doesn't look thrilled to be here."

A group of five men all clad in brand name suits were engaged in lively conversation. They all reeked of entitlement, brazenly raising their glasses and talking without reservation. To be fair, the middle guy seemed to be the least douchey of the bunch. As Shelly had observed, he didn't look amused in the slightest. I felt a little bad for him, seeing how miserable he looked. He was also ridiculously attractive. His hair was dark and his eyes were a vibrant blue, so clear they seemed to reflect the warm lighting in the room.

Shelly said, "I know you're not looking for a relationship but we're in a different country and you should let loose for once."

At that moment, our waiter set down our orders. Gnocchi with prawns for me and a Buffalo Mozzarella for Shelly. The waiter proceeded to explain how the dish had been cooked and lovingly arranged on the plates for the most pleasing aesthetic.

As I savored the first bite, I considered her words. "I'd rather not get involved with some trust-fund man-child."

"Fair enough. Anyway, I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" I asked, confused by this turn in the conversation.

My friend set her fork down on her plate and steepled her fingers together. "I've never had a female friend before. I mean I have, but they were never _actually_ a friend." She fumbled for a moment. "I've never been able to maintain a friendship with a girl without it dissolving into an ugly mess. Being the hot one is difficult, you know."

I squinted at her, then at her wine glass. "Are you drunk?"

Her cheeks reddened. "I am _not_. I'm trying to say that I appreciate you, you ungrateful thing."

We both burst into uncontrollable laughter that had everyone looking over at us, the loud American girls. I smiled at her and said, "You're one of my best friends. And while I know you can handle yourself, I'll kick any man into the afterlife if he mistreats you."

"No offense, but I'm not sure you could. Though I appreciate the sentiment."

I scoffed. "Give me your stilettos and I'll kick him right in the - shit." The prawn on my fork had slipped off and onto my shirt, leaving a greasy stain.

"Bathroom's down there," Shelly said, pointing behind me with her fork.

"I'll just be a sec," I told her, getting up from my chair and taking my purse with me.

On my way past the table of five men, one of the guys slapped the dark-haired man on the shoulder and said, in a rather unkind tone, "And what about you, Adler? It's been about, what, fifteen years now?"

Adler's smile was forced but his eyes glittered with pure malice. "I hope you're not about to become my competitor, Rogers. I play for keeps."

Rogers retorted with, "Well then I'll just hire Nathan Drake. He'd do it in less time than you, am I right? Or were you planning on getting mommy to fund your expedition? When you do finally find the treasure, let me know." He erupted into laughter and the rest of the table followed suit. A few of the men looked a tad uncomfortable, however.

"Hey, Rogers, you sure you want to talk that way to him?" one man snickered.

Adler simply took a sip from his glass, but his knuckles bled white around the delicate stem.

Nathan Drake? The treasure hunter? I froze right in front of their table.

As the laughter died down, a few of the men noticed me standing there, looking like a fish flopping on dry land. I darted around the corner and into the women's restroom, embarrassed for so obviously eavesdropping on them.

I scrubbed at the stain on my shirt with a wet paper towel, cursing my lack of self-awareness. It's not like I'd ever see them again. Still, I felt a little bad for Adler. It was obvious his companions weren't friends of his.

But why were they talking about Nathan Drake as if they knew him? No, scratch that. It was like they were taunting Adler somehow. Oh well, it's not like it mattered.

The stain refused to go away. Now I was left with a huge wet blotch on my shirt. I dabbed the material with a dry paper towel but it was clear that I'd have to wait for it just dry on its own. With a sigh, I fixed my hair, applied some gloss and headed back to my table.

Well, that was the plan.

When I stepped out of the restroom and started down the hall, I stopped at the sight of a figure ahead of me, cloaked in shadow. I hesitated, wondering if perhaps he was waiting to use the men's restroom. Then he moved into the light. It was Adler. He stared directly at me and tilted his head to the side, almost like a hungry wolf. I steeled myself and attempted to breeze past him.

"Excuse me," Adler spoke, stopping me in my tracks. I bit the insides of my cheeks and turned around slowly. Had he been waiting for me? Why? The man was surprisingly shorter than I'd expected, but he was still a few good inches taller than me. And he was even more attractive up close. I was suddenly grateful for the sparse lighting as my cheeks flushed hot red. Adler took a step closer until I was looking up directly into his frosty gaze.

A rich cologne drifted around me, deep like cinnamon and something else. Something dark and alluring.

It was a great effort on my part to keep from breaking eye contact. A shiver skated down my spine. Somewhere in his mask of pleasantry lurked a dangerous beast. At least, that's what it felt like looking at him.

Adler watched me for a moment before saying, "I believe you've dropped something."

I slid a hand into my purse to feel for my wallet. "I didn't," I said. Keeping a tight grip on my belongings, I made for a getaway when he reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder. I stiffened as his heat seeped through my thin layer of clothing. I'd been advised to watch out for thieves in Italy, but I doubted someone who was obviously of high-class would stoop so low.

"Oh, there you are. God, you were in there for so long I thought something must've hap -" Shelly broke off, rounding the corner. She took one look at the man's hand on me and her lips curled back to show her teeth. "What are you doing to my friend?"

Adler let go of me and started to speak but Shelly wouldn't' have it. She pushed me behind her and jabbed a finger into his chest. "I don't care how cute you think she is she's not interested. Or are you?" Shelly asked me, suddenly looking guilty. "Oh crap, were you two having a moment? Nevermind, I should've let you two alone. Sorry, I'll be at the table -

"Let's get some dessert, Shelly," I interrupted, snagging my friend's wrist and pulling her with me and away from him.

"What, did I read the situation wrong?" She asked as I led her back to our table. "I'm sorry, I thought maybe he'd cornered you or something. It was so dark down there and you two were all alone...oh." Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes crinkled at the corners. "Were you two messing around?"

I flagged down a waiter and handed him our business credit card, tapping my boot against the floor impatiently. "Hell no. He asked if I'd dropped something. I don't know why, but I had a weird feeling about him. Thanks for saving me back there."

"_Did_ you drop anything?" She asked me.

I shook my head. "Wallet's all here."

"He's looking at you. Need me to go show him his place?"

"Wonderful. And no, let's just get out of here," I said, pushing my chair in and heading out of the restaurant after the waiter returned my card.

It wasn't until we were back in our hotel room, stuffed from dinner and ice cream from down the street, that I realized that I actually had lost something.

My sketchpad. Filled entirely with my portfolio, notes and my ticket into the Rossi Estate's auction sale.

I buried my face in my hands. They only gave out one ticket for admission. And it wasn't replaceable.

And the auction was tomorrow...


	2. Chapter 2

The day of the auction had arrived, and with it, my despair over my missing sketchpad. I had taped my entrance ticket on the back page for safekeeping. For two whole months, I'd looked forward to this once-in-a-lifetime event. Then I'd gone and lost it. Fuck me.

I'd done well in keeping it together all morning while Shelly and I combed every inch of our hotel room for it. But it was to no avail.

"It's gone," I said, after we'd torn the whole room asunder in our search. "It's okay, really."

Damn, maybe that Adler guy wasn't trying to pickpocket me after all. I hated assuming the worst of people, but sadly the world ate the more forgiving for breakfast. At least, that's what my father had always told me. My mother, however, believed otherwise.

"It's not okay," Shelly snapped back, ripping the cotton cases off of the pillows as if my sketchpad had curled up to sleep under there. "Maybe you sleepwalked or something. My grandma did that a lot. Stubbed her toe hard against the coffee table on her way to the kitchen and lost her wedding ring with it. A tragedy."

I frowned. "Didn't you say she flushed it down the toilet because she'd caught your grandpa cheating on her with -

Shelly held up one hand and said, "That's beside the point. That ticket was like, what, five-hundred bucks? Ugh, why on earth did you pay so much?"

There was no use in hiding it. "Let's just say the items for sale weren't exactly obtained legally." Meaning they likely never would be available for auction if they had been obtained any other way.

Shelly dropped the pillow cases onto the bed and squinted at me as if she was trying to put together a puzzle. "You some dark web supplier for a Tweeker?" When I shook my head no, she pursed her lips. "Yeah, no one would hire you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked but she simply waved away my comment.

"So how are we getting in? If you want me to wear a low cut dress I can definitely let these babies loose -

"I'd rather not." She raised a brow at me as if to say, have you seen how great I look? "Some people have no respect for others."

Once, Shelly had misplaced her ID card to get into a nightclub. To my horror, the bouncer had tugged down the front of her shirt with a hooked finger. With a smirk he granted her entry and promised to check on her later.

Shelly had instinctively taken one step back to distance herself from him, her eyes wide.

Anger was not an emotion I easily displayed, nor was it something that came easily to me. But in that moment I'd imagined what it would be like to kick that bouncer to another planet. I swatted his beefy arm and he let go of her shirt, taken aback that I'd touched him. Instead of heading on in to the club, I took her to get drinks with me down the street, seething with rage.

She shrugged. "Why not use them? Worked last time, apparently." Her words came out bitter. Though she meant her next part good-naturedly, it still stung a little, "Not like you have any to show off." Oh well, that was my own insecurity problem.

"You are _not _an object, Shelly. You are an amazing woman and I'll be damned if some asshole thinks otherwise. We always have each other, right?" She smiled softly at me and nodded. "Exactly. So don't worry. Anyway, your return flight is today," I pointed out.

"_Was_. Five-hundred bucks for a piece of criminal's paper," she muttered the last bit to herself.

I said, "You're supposed to be getting your portfolio ready for the gala, aren't you? I'd feel horrible if I cost you a better job. Forget it, really. It's just a dumb cross -

"We always have each other, right?" she repeated, making me eat my words. "So now you can't ditch me. Also, this _Saint Dismas Cross _thingy. Don't give me that look," she interrupted, catching me off guard. "I may not get what all of this history mumbo-jumbo stuff you're into is, but this clearly means a lot to you. And if I'm being honest I'd love to see what a rich auction house is like. My portfolio isn't going anywhere."

"You want to see what the rich men are like, you mean," I corrected her with a small laugh.

"Who wouldn't?"

I added, "It's not like everyone attending has a clean record."

Shelly's forehead creased at that. "Does that include you_?"_

* * *

"So...what are we doing?" Shelly hissed as we pulled into the circular drive of the Rossi Estate. Normally, I'd have called a situation like this quits and then forgotten about it. But I'd be damned if I went back home without having tried to get in. At the very least I had to present my predicament to the ticket collector.

Or maybe...

"You don't have to come," I said kindly to her. Before we'd gotten into the limo, I'd made sure to tell her that she was not to drop her guard during the auction. No matter how classy the establishment seemed or how nice the people appeared to be, it meant nothing where we were going. I hadn't meant to scare her. I'd just wanted her to understand the kind of company we'd be in.

"Think of everyone in there as the wolf pretending to be Red-Riding Hood's grandmother," I'd told her. Perhaps that hadn't been the most reassuring description.

Shelly was reading through the website again on her phone. I'd already checked it. At the bottom it stated that the only way in was with the ticket they'd mailed to you. And if you didn't have it with you? Too bad.

I surveyed the area, noting every little detail from outside the estate. There was only one ticket collector at the top of the stairs by the entrance. More and more people were crowding around him to get in, cutting off his view of the area.

"Like hell I'm leaving. Look at me - I could kill a man like this." True, but that was neither here nor there. "And how will you explain this?" she asked me when I handed the uber our business credit card.

"Who was the one who jumped at the chance to ride in a limo?" I asked her, and she grumbled unintelligibly.

The driver glanced at us with a keen eye, and I wondered if he knew more English than he let on. My friend unfolded her arms and demanded, "Also, how -

I practically shoved her out of the car before she said anything incriminating. Closing the door shut behind us, I faked an excited smile. "Come on, you look great!" With a small laugh I lowered my voice. "They never gave us a list of what we couldn't buy," I replied, feeling a tad guilty. "Besides, we can't just walk everywhere, can we? Sightseeing is essential for inspiration," I quoted one of my art college professors.

Frowning at my oddly chipper demeanor, Shelly bent down close to the passenger's side view mirror and applied a fresh coat of lipstick.

I craned my neck back to stare open-mouthed at the glorious estate.

The auction house was more like a castle, complete with a fortress, a grand archway leading inside and bright red flags decorating every steeple. Of which there were many. A fountain quietly bubbled behind us in the middle of the drive. On one side of the area, a perfectly trimmed hedge stood at attention. Parked around the fountain and lining the perimeter of the estate were sports cars I'd only seen online.

Among them was a brilliant plum Ferrari - or at least it _looked _like a Ferrari. As I took in the sight of the futuristic sports cars dotting the premises, a sleek black limo identical to ours pulled around the bend and into the drive.

It rolled to a stop with a purr at the entrance and out stepped a gorgeous woman in a sleeveless red silk top. Her dark skin glowed like bronze in the evening light and her arms were sculpted like a Greek goddess'.

A string of men in black suits followed after her, the cut of their suits hinting at hardened muscles. Their limo peeled out of the drive with a whisper over the asphalt. Slowly, our own ride drove away too.

"They look like a band of baddies straight outta some _James Bond_ flick," Shelly observed.

We'd called up a taxi originally, but they didn't go to the Rossi Estate as there was already a separate service dedicated to ferrying passengers to that location. A service I'd never heard of before and yielded few results online. Which sounded fishy as hell to me but Shelly jumped at the chance for a fancier ride and asked for the number to reach them. After all, she'd interpreted it to mean, 'We don't take poor people to rich places, let alone dumb American tourists.'

So instead of a normal taxi we'd had to shell out our business's credit card for a more lavish service. A shiny black limo to be exact. I recorded the license plate number and business name in my notes app just in case. Shelly absolutely refused to imagine this was remotely odd even though I'd informed her of the nature of our destination's patronage.

"Stop being a worrywart. It's a _limousine._ What kinda bad people use those?" she'd argued.

"Oh my god," I'd sighed, unable to believe her logic.

Maybe it was my paranoia from earlier about Shelly alluding to breaking into the auction house right in the driver's backseat. Maybe it was because I was paranoid everyone here was bad news and I was projecting it onto others.

"We can both make a flight home if we hurry."

"Bitch, no."

Well that was that.

As discreetly as possible, I slipped into line behind the woman and her men. My friend's heels clanged out a sharp staccato beat on the stairs. "Hey, where's this plan of yours?" she whispered into my ear. The woman at the front of her party threw us a critical glance over her shoulder.

Lord, she looked like she could suplex a man without breaking a sweat. I wished I could have even half her body strength.

I rolled back my shoulders and replied beneath my breath with more confidence than I felt, "Walk like you're a million bucks, alright?"

"And what does a million bucks look like?" she retorted just to irk me.

The men ahead of us were too busy trailing after the dark-haired woman to care about us. They moved like professionals, their every step as if they were marching onto a battlefield.

Shelly picked up on it and cast me a startled look.

Her stunning gold gown fell to her ankles, which were strapped into a pair of gold stilettos. With her shining hair, she looked like a tall flute of champagne. Perfect for tonight's assembly, but it was clear she felt out of her element. I smiled encouragingly at her. "Almost there."

As we approached the main entrance I felt my chest constrict at the sight of the ticket collector. I nudged Shelly and tilted my chin toward a corner to her right. The men in suits gathered there like a pitch dark cloud, and past them was the entryway.

This was a huge gamble, but I suspected that if there were any cameras in the vicinity, most of them would be pointed at the entrance, at the drive, and the rest were filming the inside.

Sure enough, there was one in the top left corner of the eaves above us. It's glassy eye was trained on the main drive. Spying no others, I weighed my options. There was no telling if there others I couldn't even see.

"Five hundred for a ticket," Shelly murmured beside me, snapping me out of my reverie. "We're foreign tourists. We'll come up with something."

She was placing a ton of faith in me. If we got caught breaking into an auction house - regardless whether I had purchased an entry or not - we were technically breaking the law. Not to mention my best friend hadn't even bought entry for herself. Even so, a shiver of anticipation skated up my spine at the prospect of doing something I shouldn't.

"Take off your shoes," I whispered. With a scowl, she complied and promptly lost four inches. Without missing a beat, she casually glanced upward for any cameras. Ascertaining there were none, she slinked past the men, slipped around the corner and into the auction house in a flash of gold.

I crouched down and streaked around the corner after her. For a moment I couldn't see her in the low lighting. Actually, I couldn't see her period.

My lungs felt like air bags being gripped too tight, and I fought to control my breathing. Explaining to my company how we'd somehow gotten deported on a business trip would be something. But my fears were for nothing - I caught a glimpse of Shelly's lustrous pale hair as she moved through the throng of people like a towering runway model. She must've put her stilettos back on.

Glancing back at the entrance from my place against the wall, I saw the woman in red strut into the estate. She never spotted me and I sagged in relief. Her men dispersed into the crowd like water, filling the spaces in between like murky pools. My eyes narrowed. Shelly could be right about them being bad news after all.

Then again, everyone here was some shade of crook.

Cold dread pooled through my veins. _Calm down_, I told myself. _Just because the people here aren't exactly clean doesn't mean anything will happen. And if anything does happen Shelly and I can get out of here. _

Peeling myself gracefully from the wall, I picked my way into the masses. The European techno they were blasting somehow blended into the background like white noise. Yet inexplicably, it also grated on the ears and called attention to itself in a vainglorious way.

A waiter passed me by and I swiped a handful of finger food from his glittering silver tray. Free food was free food! Resisting the urge to check behind me every now and again for someone to stop me and demand for my ticket was difficult, but I managed.

_You always act without thinking, _I berated myself mentally.

Sliding past a couple practically studded with what resembled shards of the Tiffany Diamond, I broke into a less crowded area. And was hit in the face with a blinding explosion of color. Fractures of light glittered through giant ice sculptures on the tables scattered about the main floor.

Handcrafted in the finest of details, the sculpture before me lavishly portrayed Dionysus, greek god of winemaking, with a bundle of crystal-clear grapes dangling from one hand and a goblet of wine in the other. Each grape was a near-perfect globe. Even more baffling was the exquisite detail in each curl of hair and looping strand of his beard, the angular planes of his face and in the delicate folds of his robe.

Running a self-conscious hand over the bare flesh of my arm, I followed his outstretched handful of grapes to the other side of the room. Sparkling light glittered in my periphery in golds and reds.

Lorded over by an icy rendition of the greek goddess of love, Shelly had already found herself a conversation partner, a man at least a head shorter than her in a bone-white tuxedo. I'd expected someone to immediately try to win her over, but something was different. There were no grand gesticulations on his part, nor were there any sultry lidded glances from her to him. I tried to sneak a better look at the guy but he positioned himself so that his back was facing me. Shelly subtly glanced over his head at me, calmly, and I returned it with a slight nod.

Good, she was alright. Time to busy myself until the auction began.

My stomach rumbled and I bit into the savory finger foods I'd taken, admiring the main floor as I traipsed through it.

Clearly the original owner of the estate had been a fan of greek architecture. It wasn't simply the choice few sculptures of the pantheon - the place was brimming with inspiration in the form of sturdy marble columns on two tiers (albeit with a more modern touch), delicate swathes of red curtains framing floor-to-ceiling windows and balconies lining the second floor. According to the website's main page, a citrus garden was somewhere out back, too.

Where could that be?

Making my way into the lounge, the cheesy European techno pulsed through the floor like a heartbeat; cigar smoke permeated the expanse, adding a biting warmth to the air. The dove gray and red patterns on the floor complimented the furnishings perfectly, lending a quaint atmosphere to the room.

In direct contrast to the thrumming staccato pumping through my soles, the people here kicked back in plush-backed emerald sofas with maple frames. Others chose instead to gather in cliques to gossip. It was as though each group spoke a different tongue, reminding me once more of the poor American education system. I really should try to learn a different language.

A man sprawled out on a sofa blew coils of smoke into the air with a hazy expression. I pressed past him, trying to get my bearings before the auction began, and nearly collided with an older man coming down the stairs from the second floor. His silver hair and mustache gleamed with a hue of gold under the lit chandelier hanging above us.

"Whoa, there, Miss," he spoke in a British accent. The scent of smoke wafted off of him as he reached out to steady me. "Pardon me."

Behind him was another man. "Sully, what's the hold up?" He was younger with a jaw that could glass and the kind of haircut most kids wore back in the 2000's. Spotting me, he flashed a charming smile. In broken Italian, he said, "_Scusami_." He was American too.

"It's alright," I reassured them. With a nod, they were off, their movements harried.

I contemplated heading upstairs but thought better of it. May as well be where Shelly can easily find me. No doubt men would be swarming her like bees to a honeypot soon. I smiled a little bit. She almost looked like honey tonight and none were wiser to the stinging barbs she could prick unwanted suitors with.

Leaning back against the wall to settle my nerves, I noticed a flyer on a small end table. Unfortunately, a rather obnoxious trio of men in even more obnoxious attire were currently engaged in some particularly thrilling conversation right in front of it.

"You see, I thought I had a reasonable grasp of French, or at least at least a passable French accent," the leader of the group was saying. I drew closer to pick up the flyer and scanned through the list of items to be presented this night. The starting prices made me sweat.

As I was reading, the man went on in a voice both histrionic and obtuse to divulge a tale in which a waiter had told him his French accent was shit...so he planned out an act of revenge to assault the waiter.

His buddies all proceeded to snicker, and I stupidly lingered, struggling to process what I'd heard.

"Rogers? You know her?"

Hadn't I heard that name somewhere recently?

They turned as one to find me staring at them with the auction's flyer gripped in my hand. The man called Rogers appraised me much like a jeweler would a damaged gemstone. His shrewd gaze travelled over my sapphire dress, pausing at the high neckline encircling my throat. His hair was starting to gray and his eyes were puffing with bags. "Ah, must be another one of my stalkers," he concluded flippantly.

"Another one?" laughed one of his friends.

_Bruh_.

I stared at Rogers with plain disgust. Oh, he was the same guy from the _Il Buco_ restaurant. If he was here, did that mean so was Adler? I hoped he had my sketchpad. But first I had to tear this guy a new asshole. "Who are you?" I intoned.

He sneered. "American, are we? And what valuable insight are you going to bestow on me?"

"That you need to pull that stick out of your ass. Now, if you'll excuse me."

His friends all laughed immaturely. Apparently though, Rogers couldn't bear to lose face. He said, in a tone laced with venom, "Americans are all the same - especially their entitled women. Classless, low-born and unrefined." He glanced at his friends as if he were telling an inside joke. "If Adler had a different bitch for a mother he may actually accomplish everything he says he will. But I guess even prison wasn't enough time to let reality sink in for him."

Rogers seemed keen on his social standing. Well, that made it easier to tear him down a peg, I supposed.

I straightened and gave him a complete rundown with my gaze. "How about you dress better before you run your mouth, hm? I'd imagine you have the pockets for it, considering you buy your friends."

Said 'friends' grew rigid with the slight. One of them cleared his throat as if he were about to rebuke me.

Rogers, though, was livid. Blotches of angry red colored his face at my insult. He opened his mouth to speak again, only to settle for a snort of disbelief. "Hmph. I should've guessed. How else could you afford to be here?"

Following his gaze, I spotted the man in the bone-white tuxedo who'd been conversing with Shelly. Or rather, his back. He was leaving the lounge and heading down the stairs to order a drink. "Thinks he's all that. Please." A woman in red sauntered over to the man in white.

"And his other woman is no better," Rogers continued bitterly. "What's she even doing hanging around him?"

This was clearly beyond toxic. I didn't think I could take much more of their vitriol. Without a second glance back at the men behind me, I left them.

The auction was set to start soon, according to the flyer. Taking the small flight of stairs down to the bar, I took my place next to the woman in red. I ordered drinks for me and Shelly.

Out of my periphery, I caught a glimpse of Shelly's conversation partner. He looked...familiar. His profile was sharp, like he'd been forged from a blade. He was glaring at something only he could see in the distance, his eyes rimmed with shadows.

The woman in red leaned in close to his ear and murmured, "Leave things to me, alright?"

"Just keep an eye on Sulivan," he sighed. "I have a bad feeling about this."

With an annoyed huff, she grabbed her drink and made her way toward the front of the crowd, claiming her place.

Sulivan? As in _Sully _Sullivan? I glanced around the room, searching for the older gentleman I'd almost crashed into. He had to mean someone else.

"Scotch on the rocks," the bartender said, sliding me the glass.

I started. "Oh, I'm sorry, that's not mine."

"That would be me," came the deep rumble of the man beside me. He reached to grab it at the same time that I picked it up to hand it to him. His fingers momentarily brushed over mine, warm and rough, and so completely different from the biting cold of the glass. "Pardon me," he smiled when I hesitated.

"My bad," I apologized, handing him his drink.

His lips quirked upwards at the corners, not reaching his eyes. A false pretense. I wondered how often he'd had to do that for it to come so naturally to him. And then reality hit me like a shocking bucket of ice water over my head. "Are you Adler?" Yes, I could still remember that slick, velvet voice in the dark in _Il Buco_, see his inquisitive gaze like pale shards of ice gleaming in the dark.

He blinked in surprise, his haunted expression replaced with a strange vulnerability. "How may I help you? Miss," he trailed off expectantly.

Last name? I thought dumbly, unsure what the protocol for rich gatherings like this was. "Winslow. Elizabeth Winslow. But Liz is fine."

Adler's icy gaze grew warm. "A pleasure, Miss Winslow." He held out a hand and I stared at it mutely. "Are we not both American? Or would you prefer the French way of greeting?"

I couldn't help it, I laughed. "Aren't you a charmer?" I shook his hand. His grip was firm, strong and gentle all at once.

"I believe we've met before," he said and I started. Holy crap he remembered? "Tell me, how did you get in here?" he didn't say it unkindly, as if I were too poor to afford a ticket to attend this auction. Rather, his voice dipped into a mischievous dulcet, his eyes sparking with interest.

"Oh? Are you suggesting I found another way in?" I smirked back at him. Adler tilted his chin back and grinned. "Also, my apologies. The other night I thought maybe you were a thief."

He nodded to himself, taking a sip of his drink. "Explains a lot."

"Anyway, I thought maybe you had my -

"Two Bloody Mary's," the bartender announced, sliding the glasses down the countertop.

"Thank you," I graciously grabbed them and turned back to Adler. He looked at my choice of alcohol with approval. "I was wondering if you had picked up -

The lights shut off, save for the spotlights up front. A woman befitting of the movie secretary stereotype climbed up to the podium, her glasses reflecting the light with a harsh glare. The auction was starting soon.

"My sincerest apologies, Miss Winston," Adler said, holding up his bidding paddle. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, however brief it was."

Right as I made to grab his arm to stop him, Shelly caught up to me, her eyes wild. "So good and bad news," she began. And then Adler was gone.

Dammit, I'd have to catch him later. "What's wrong?"

Shelly refrained from chewing on her lower lip, as she often did. Instead, she grimaced. "Okay so the bad news is they found out we got in without our tickets." My stomach flipped and I froze. "Good news is that it's all fine!" she hurried to reassure me. "Oh thank you for the drink. It's mine right?"

Completely gobsmacked, I pressed a palm to my forehead. "Back up. How is this fine?" _Oh my fuck, our company is gonna find out! I'm such an idiot._

My friend positively glowed as she deftly slipped something dry into my hand. I nearly dropped it out of pure horror. In my hand was a glorious wad of cash - cold, hard American cash. Hundreds of dollars worth too.

I blanched. "Shelly!"

"I'd pocket that if I were you. Anyway, as I'm talking to the guy in that white tux, the ticket collector comes over to apologize for not mailing me a ticket."

"I need a moment," I muttered before taking a huge swig of my Blood Mary.

"He also says he forgot to mail you one as well because he never crossed us off the guest list and he'd been explicitly informed we would be attending this auction. So he refunded us. In full. Or just you, technically, but I'm not about to say no to free money."

"Who said we were attending?" I asked her, not understanding anything one bit. The terms and conditions had been painfully clear: no refunds.

Shelly simply sighed. "White tux over there, according to the ticket dude. You know, he should really try a different color. He looks so drained."

I threw her a distraught look. "Doesn't that seem weird to you?"

At that, my friend faltered. "Um. A little. I mean, he said he knew you, though. Or of you? I don't remember. I sure as hell don't believe him but he had both our first and last names, so..."

My chest heaved as I fought for air. I'd just been speaking to the guy. So how could he know me? Unless he did have my sketchpad, which had my entire name and my contact info on the first page in the event I'd lost it. But how did he know _Shelly's_ full name? I'd never wrote about her in there. It was strictly filled with design ideas!

"Is he some dark web hacker?" she ventured, seemingly excited by the prospect.

"I'm gonna have a word with him," I said, not knowing what to think.

I stuffed the cash into my handbag and picked my way through the crowd, trying to find him. But it was no use. Even with his blindingly white tux, the man wasn't exactly tall. Taller than me, sure, but not enough to stand out in a crowd.

And then the auction began and I found myself standing next to the man called Sully, who was frantically muttering to himself like a loon as he nervously fanned his bidding paddle. Yeah we weren't in the best company...

* * *

**AN: ****You can simply replace your name with the reader's if you prefer. However, I can't write _ in place of the reader's name - it personally bothers me and I can't think of the reader as anything other than a self-insert after that. It's cool if you like that but I'd rather have the reader have a part in the story rather than create a Mary Sue. So readers will have flaws (such as this one acting before she thinks, being a little less assertive than most of my readers, etc. but hey, that's where character growth comes in). For this story in particular I want to outline my thought process and goals because it's one of the most difficult projects I've started and I hope I can get across what I want to say. **

**Rafe is a jealous and insecure time bomb waiting to explode. So it'd probably be a bad idea to make the reader instantly think he's a safe person considering he bitch slaps Nadine and then expects her to stick by his side when he loses his shit and tries to murder the Drakes. However, I also believe Uncharted 4 created an insanely flawed anti-hero. To Rafe, he is not the villain of this story. He's entitled and a brat but a lot of what Nate and Sam do comes across as sketchy as what Rafe does - even if they're killing others in self-defense. Nate slowly grows up but before this, he was going on these adventures for the thrill of it all and if he had to shoot to kill in self-defense? Well then it was just in self-defense! Don't get me wrong here, I love Nate, but he wasn't exactly a good guy in the previous games. Even Elena was tired of his crap. Something about the Rossi Estate auction in particular that stands out is how Rafe goes there to buy the cross FAIR AND SQUARE and Sam (who ied to Nate to get him to go treasure hunting and risk his marriage to Elena) and Nate break in and steal it. Like bruh. Of course****_I'm in no way excusing Rafe's later actions_****(or previous ones - remember him shanking the guy in prison?). I just really want to highlight how brilliant I personally think the writers were for this game. The villain is layered and he feels real, just like Nate and Sam. As for Shelly's friendship to the reader: I wanted to have a strong female friendship because, 1. I rarely read them and us girls have lives aside from our love interests and more often than not our most important relationships are our with our friends and family. 2. I wanted a similar vibe to Nathan and Sam here for the reader. I loved their banter in the game.**


	3. Chapter 3

Two things were very peculiar about this auction - aside from the obvious sea of snakes we had willingly waded into. The first being the Saint Dismas cross. It was glowing on a separate podium at the head of the room as if imbued with the sanctity of Jesus Christ himself.

"Shelly," I hissed, nudging her with an elbow to snag her attention. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, it's your dusty old - I mean your _super cool _cross."

I ignored her horrible cover up and took a considering sip from my Bloody Mary. The burn of alcohol left a trail of fire down my throat and set my veins ablaze. Careful not to cross the threshold of a slight buzz, I set my unfinished glass down onto a passing waiter's tray. Shelly followed suit, albeit quite reluctantly.

The waiter himself flashed a wicked grin at us both, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he caught sight of Shelly's liquid gold splendor. Then he was gone, winding through the crowd with lithe steps. Sully cleared his throat when Shelly exclaimed, "I bet he knows how to show a woman a good time."

"He looks like he knows how to play women, you mean," I commented, unimpressed.

Eventually, the waiter finished his round and stationed himself near the head of the room, sticking to the shadows.

Though we stood a good distance away from the cross, I could clearly discern the dull gleam of its silver inlay. I was certain this was due to the lighting, which had been carefully aligned to set the pieces aglow and entice potential buyers. The cross's entire make and finish was more impressive than any online photo could ever portray. To think, Henry Avery himself had once held it! Of course it'd be better if I could hold it, but a dream was sometimes better than reality.

"Something's off," I continued, speaking half to myself. Auction houses typically kept their most valuable goods stored under tight security measures. And more often than not, they weren't brought out of storage until the end of the auction was near.

"That's the first thing you think when you see it?" Shelly sounded miffed by my unenthusiastic reaction.

I bit the inside of my cheek. "It's supposed to be their main event. Which means they would save it for last," I tried to explain to her. Pursing my lips, I regarded the room speculatively. "I think someone rigged the bidding order."

The second glaring oddity was this 'Sully' guy standing beside me. He slid a too-innocent glance my way, clearly having heard my remark, only to tilt his head to the side. He brought a cigar to his lips. Try as he might to hide it, I could hear him muttering to himself. We were standing practically right next to him, after all.

On top of his oddball behavior, the guy was wearing the most confounding suit I'd seen. It was a double breasted suit jacket with notched lapels. Not peaked ones. Notched lapels typically were designed for single breasted suits. Either this man had found himself in a hurry and had no time to put together an up-to-date outfit - which was hard to imagine, considering we were in a pit of vipers where status meant everything - or he just didn't care about his reputation. Which again, was hard to imagine. Something about this inconsequential detail had me on edge.

"Now we will begin bidding on our next item," the auctioneer announced, her voice like fine wine filling an empty glass. She removed her spectacles and placed them atop the wooden surface of her podium. With a delicate sweep of her arm, she gestured at the cross. "Our next piece is an inlaid wooden crucifix from the Trott Estate."

"Cross," I corrected her excitedly. Sully furtively cast a side-long look my way. I lifted my chin, ignoring him. Best not to get myself involved.

"So what if it was rigged? Shouldn't the early reveal make you happy, miss historian?," Shelly sighed dramatically, nonplussed by it all.

"I'm hardly a historian," I refuted.

"You passed that AP exam," she argued back. "Sounds like a bonafide historian to me."

I'd scored a three on my world history AP exam, to be exact. Meaning I'd passed, but it was akin to a making C letter grade. Not to mention how said score had done squat for my college career. Oh well, it's not like I was hellbent on inhaling the subject into the fiber of my being, seeing as I'd gone straight into the fashion industry.

I wrapped my arms self-consciously around my waist. I could already envision my Mom's voice on our next phone call, trying not to sound too concerned for me. I'd never tell her I was unhappy with my job, especially when college was something they'd helped me pay for. We were already struggling financially - I was still paying off loans both to the school and to my parents and they were still trying to just stay afloat. To confess discontent with a career I'd spent so much on would be like a slap in the face to them. If only I could surprise her with something like, 'I made it!' next time. Wouldn't that be something?

As I was imagining a different, more favorable scenario for my life, the bidding commenced. Already, competitors were staking their claims for little Saint Dismas. The prices were absurd, climbing toward insanity each second. How must it feel to have so much money you could throw out an arbitrary number and afford it?

"All that for some hunk of kindling? Holy shit," Shelly grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me like I was a chew toy for her pet dog. "Are you hearing what I'm hearing?"

I gently removed myself from her grasp, putting some distance between us in case she went for another throttle.

"_Bene_. We have eighty thousand euros in the room," the auctioneer smiled cordially at the hopeful buyer.

Stretching up onto my toes, I struggled to catch a glimpse of a man in a gray suit near the front of the crowd. He was surrounded by two similarly obnoxious men, each with their own bidding paddles. He lowered his with a self-important sneer and his profile was illuminated under the phosphorescent lighting. Great, Rogers was vying for it? Call me presumptuous, but I doubted he had a keen eye for historical artifacts - nor any respect for their history.

Beside me, Sully was doing a poor job of concealing his hushed mutterings. Trying hard not to pay him any mind, I folded my arms over my chest. That's when I spotted Adler to my right. He was near Rogers and his cohorts, but he kept to himself, his attention focused on the auctioneer. Despite his conspicuous attire, he gave off conflicting messages. He was alone, for one. Most people of hubris rested on the laurels of others' admiration for their accomplishments. It would appear, at least in this instance, he did not share those sentiments.

Wait. Where was his companion? Scanning the floor carefully, I caught no sign of the woman in red.

Rattled by the recent turn of events, I leveled a glare at his profile. He'd pretended not to know who I was earlier yet he possessed both mine and my best friend's last names. Who did that? I opened my mouth to tell Shelly we would confront him together after the auction when Adler discreetly raised his bidding paddle. Gooseflesh whispered over my bare arms.

"We have ninety thousand. Do I hear any more bids?"

The price tag rang in my ears like the blare of a fire alarm. But...why did _he_ want the cross?!

Following Adler's stake, the rest of the room went still. Rogers folded his arms belligerently over his chest, like he was too proud to contend with someone he deemed lesser than.

"Since we have no other bids...Going once...Going twice…"

Sully dropped all subtly and hissed, "Ah, screw it," before raising his paddle high into the air with a pained smile stretching across his face. I might've reacted the same way if I were spending so much money.

"_Bene!_ We have one hundred thousand euros in the room. Thank you."

Shelly grabbed my shoulders once more and her fingernails dug into my flesh, causing me to jump and bat her off. "Sorry, I just - it's a piece of wood!"

"Don't maul me to death," I said, stepping away from her. A soft sigh escaped me at the telltale red indents on my shoulders. This wasn't the first time she'd drawn blood in her zeal. When I looked up at Sully, he turned in place to offer a plastic grin to Adler.

"Do we have any other bids?"

Adler's face was a mask of tempered fury as he slowly raised his own paddle. His gaze lingered on Sully's, as if daring him to continue. To my surprise, his attention landed on me for a split second. The hidden danger I'd sensed from him in the dark hallway of _Il Buco_ chilled me to the core. A shudder spider-walked up my spine.

"We now have one hundred ten thousand euros in the room."

Sully muttered something unintelligible before holding his paddle up again. And so continued this bidding war for the Saint Dismas cross. They soared past a hundred and sixty thousand euros, then to a hundred and eighty thousand euros. It was madness.

The older man dropped whatever pretense he'd been under only to wrap himself up in false pleasantry as he bid higher and higher. No longer did this feel like some thinly veiled competition. Waves of tension practically spread throughout the room; the other guests shifted about until a clear path was cut between the two men. I observed the display with caution, but a small sliver of intrigue curled beneath it all.

"The gentleman's bid: two hundred thousand euros."

The second the auctioneer had finished her sentence, Adler called out, "Five hundred thousand. Let's get this show on the road." He finished his demand by impatiently waving his paddle.

"Wow," I scoffed. "What a jerk."

Sully chuckled at that. "You can say that again." He relished a puff of his cigar, his eyes gleaming darkly.

"Uh...thank you," the poor auctioneer paused. "We have five hundred thousand euros in the room. Does the gentleman wish to bid again?"

By now, the entire crowd was muttering to each other. Adler's unprecedented outburst had caused many to gasp aloud, while others murmured, "American businessmen - what do you expect?" or, "Fifteen years and he _still _hasn't found anything? Absurd."

I wasn't sure what they were going on about but it was clear he wasn't a popular guy here.

As if to add to his smug theatrics, Adler raised both of his arms in a, 'What now?' motion at Sully. For one long moment, the older gentleman didn't react. Then he lowered his arms, conceding defeat.

"Had me worried there for a minute, Victor," Adler said, pointing his paddle at him. "Thought I might have to kill you!" He laughed along with the crowd but something sinister lurked beneath his words. Everyone here was the wolf pretending to be Little Red's grandmother. No matter how they dressed themselves up, that fact wouldn't change.

The same rule applied to Sully - a flaw on my part. He'd shown me a moment of kindness earlier and so I'd overlooked it. As the crowd laughed, Sully bared a dastardly grin and said to no one in particular, "Okay. Let's ruin this asshole's evening."

"Anyone else?" The auctioneer prompted. "Going once…going twice…" Adler could barely contain himself, he was rocking on the balls of his feet, tapping his bidding paddle against his tuxedo and doing all but verbally interrupting her to hurry it up. "Then I shall settle for five hundred thousand -

The lights cut off with a sputtering sound, smothering the room in darkness. It was so sudden I couldn't help but flinch; someone brushed past me, the feel of pressed satin sliding against my skin. Shelly reached out blindly for me and clung to my arm. "Liz?" she cried out tentatively.

"It's me," I reassured her, sidling closer to her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. The backup power will come on shortly," the auctioneer attempted to console the audience, but without a mic her voice carried little authority.

"I guess even the rich suffer power outages," I said.

As quickly as the dark had swallowed us all, a weak light expunged it. Almost instinctively, I knew something was wrong.

My friend was beside me - good. The people around us smiled in relief or rolled their eyes at the slight inconvenience - another good sign. As for Sully...he had vanished. I frowned, glancing down at the floor where he'd once stood to find his bidding paddle. Behind us, I heard a door open; I whirled around in time to catch a glimpse of the older man's back as he stepped into the room beyond. The door shut closed behind him with a faint click, a damning sound in this pit of vipers.

"It's gone!" Someone exclaimed, pointing to the front of the room where the cross should have been. My jaw dropped. Sure enough, Saint Dismas had been Raptured, leaving the black market auction house intact with its sinners.

Logic said that Sully couldn't have possibly had enough time to grab the cross and make it out of here in the few seconds it took for the power to be restored. But that brush of warmth against my side in the dark had clearly been him. Hell, I'd seen him leave! So then who -

"The waiter," I gasped, clutching at Shelly as if she'd somehow understand my revelation just by looking at me. Casting a wide-eyed look about the room, I cursed. "Where did he go?" He had been standing by the stage, waiting to swoop in and scoop it up!

"What waiter? Liz, what's going on?"

A frantic voice cut through my thoughts like a blade. "Move it! Get out of the way! Stop him!" Thank God I wasn't the only one to have seen something I shouldn't have. Adler was shoving his way through the crowd, racing straight for the door Sully had taken. Breaking free of the masses, he bolted straight for it, stretching out one arm as a guard stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Hey - stop that guy!" Adler ordered him.

The guard was built like a brick wall with a deep set scowl and a voice as biting as gravel. "_Fermo."_ He said, his own palm raised in warning.

But Adler didn't slow down. "What are you doing? You're letting him get away!"

Three men followed after him like his shadow, and I jolted with alarm. The woman in red had come with what appeared to be an entourage of trained men. Who were now silently keeping pace with Adler, their every move a mark of total obedience. There was something bulky and misshapen straining against the back of one of the men's suits. I squinted in the low lighting, struggling to discern its shape.

Adler, his voice high with frustration, gesticulated at the guard. "Do you speak -

Who promptly trained his rifle on Adler's face. "_Sparici!" _

"Oh my god," Shelly breathed, tugging me close to her. "He's got a gun!"

Adler at least knew when to quit. "Fine," he said, holding out both of his arms like he was a scarecrow. He backed up and dropped his paddle to the linoleum with a loud clatter, turning around with his hands on his hips to glower at the door. Unfortunately for him, scarecrows couldn't frighten away hulk-like guards. Luck wasn't on his side tonight.

I shuddered, pulling Shelly into the shadows. "It's not just him," I hissed. "Those men are all carrying." I had no idea how they'd gotten through the main entrance like that but then again, we weren't in the most moral of places. Adler moved through the crowd, shouting at his men to scour the premises.

So much for being inconspicuous.

One of the men squared his shoulders and the weapon slung across his back stuck up like legos on a carpet. Immediately, the auctioneer called for security. Ah, there was my answer. The estate had more than enough rent-a-goons to take out even a small group of trained men - there had never been need to worry. Or so it seemed, until some random waiter had upped and left with a prized artifact.

Shelly went ghost-white. "I thought you were just trying to scare me about bad company."

"Calm down, ladies and gentleman. Please gather into an orderly line. Whoever has the crucifix will be detained shortly," the auctioneer tried to reign in the ropes of panic quickly tightening about the necks of every guest in attendance.

Security dressed to the nines slithered through every opening into the auction house. They grabbed at the people before them, roughly searching their persons for the invaluable stolen artifact. Outrage and indignation fanned the flames of their distress. Those who were cleared scrambled for the exit, all sense of decorum forgotten in the face of danger as guns were brandished to force cooperation.

But fear devours reason and like the ouroboros swallowing its own tail, so too did the guests dissolve into unbridled chaos to escape the premises. Some of them landed hard on their faces in their attempt to flee, only to be yanked to their feet and manhandled.

"Hands off me!" someone cried out in English. They searched her handbag, patted her down and tossed her aside to search the next person.

Shelly froze then and there, rooted to the ground. "Come on, we gotta go," I told her, trying in vain to drag her with me to the exit. "I won't let anyone touch you! Don't worry!" I tried to reassure her.

"It's not that," her voice warbled. "Liz, I'm so scared." Her phone blared to life in her clutch and she practically jumped out of her skin.

I fished for it in her bag and saw Peter's text: _Weren't you supposed to be back in Cali? _Leaving him on Read, I returned her phone to her clutch and grabbed Shelly's hand.

"It's going to be alright, just follow me."

Amidst the unwinding terror, we weaved our way through the crowd, but soon even I froze. The security were like hunters. No one made it past them without a thorough search. Complacency seemed the only option for us - but I worried for Shelly. She'd been shoved around by men so often it had left her shaken in the wake of another possible frisk.

One of the security men reached out for Shelly and without a second thought I stepped in front of her. His hand snagged my wrist with enough force to make me cry out. It took all I had not to lash out at him as his hands briskly ran over me, as his fingers felt through my handbag and came up empty.

"She's been searched," I shouted at him when he moved on to my friend, who was trying to run away, her eyes wide with panic.

Right before his hand closed the gap between them, a gun shot rang out. Screams punctuated the din, grating on the ears and shattering the last reserves of fortitude anyone had. The security personnel spun around on his heel, lifting his own gun and raising it at the crowd. His eyes narrowed, searching for the source.

Ducking past him I grabbed Shelly's arm and together we bolted for the exit. The guards were shouting at each other in Italian, scattering through the room and bursting through doors and out into the night.

The guests all shot out through the front entrance, racing for their fancy sports cars and limousines.

"Let's get out of here," I gasped, pulling Shelly with me. Our legs were shaky as we hurried outside and down a flight of stairs. Every step was like a shock through our heels, and it was all I could do to keep the both of us balanced as we raced over the drive.

Tires squealed over the gravel and headlights blinded us as the cars swerved out of the driveway and into the night.

"Where's our ride?" Shelly asked, desperately looking around the lot.

In a matter of seconds, the drive had become empty save for the echoing pellet of bullets behind us. To my horror, a spray of gunfire tore into the gravel only a few feet ahead of us, throwing dirt into the air. "Call the driver," I told her, handing her my cell which had his number on my history.

Shelly needed something to concentrate on. She'd never been good under pressure - but neither was I. She didn't need to know that, though. As long as we could find somewhere to hide we would be fine until help arrived.

Our options were quickly limited, however. The drive was a no-no, the sides of the estate were filled with the sounds of shouting men and bullets and there was a high chance we might get caught in the line of fire if we remained outside. The auction house was empty, though. All of the guards had left in pursuit of their target.

"This way," I said, retreating back into the safety of the estate. Shelly's breaths came out in sharp gasps as she followed me into the dark room. Pale moonlight shone through the windows, spilling onto the floor in discs of silver.

"He's not picking up! Should I call the police? Wait, what's the number here?" Shelly wailed.

Turning to face her, I grabbed both of her hands in mine and looked up at her. "It's going to be alright. We need to keep quiet until we have a way out of here." I paused, waiting for her to notice the pepper of gunfire outside. Her throat bobbed. "Let's find somewhere to hide for now, okay?"

If the guy who'd stolen the cross wanted to get out of here, he'd need to make his way back to the auction house. Meaning we would inevitably find ourselves trapped in a room filled with murderous men if we stayed in the auction's room. Finding a door that led into a blessedly peaceful looking room, I closed it behind us and searched the floor for somewhere to hide. It had a similar design to the auction house, but this was more spacious, almost curved at the corners.

"A ballroom, huh?" I mused, keeping to the shadows. There wasn't much in the way of hiding spaces, but anything at this point would do. So long as we remained hidden and nothing was out of place, we'd be fine.

Spotting a podium near the front of the room cloaked in shadow, I made sure Shelly was behind me before streaking for it.

"I don't understand," her lip trembled. "Why are they shooting? None of us took that stupid cross."

Guiding her to where the shadows were the thickest, I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Do you remember that waiter from earlier? The guy you thought was cute? I think he stole it. They must have found him," I tilted my head as another volley of bullets resounded somewhere outside.

Tugging my friend down beside me against the podium, we crouched in the dark. Shelly was trying to calm down, but her breaths were coming fast and harsh, and my heart was beating an erratic tempo in response. I asked her to text our driver about our situation. To ask him to please get us help.

"If we call the police, do you think we can get away?" I murmured, unsure. Who knew how many officers would respond? If there were even enough to get us out of here in time - or if they even got here in time, for that matter.

"Won't we also get arrested? This is a _black market auction_," she responded, her voice rising higher.

"Let's keep our voices down," I gently cautioned her. "I'd rather that than get us killed. Let's call them," I decided. As Shelly tried to get onto the internet to find the number for the Italian police, I dragged a hand down my face. Why wasn't my first thought to contact the police after realizing our limo hadn't been there? I mean, sure, he'd be back to pick us up later but still…

Noticing the sharp dive my nerves were taking, I concentrated on inhaling steady, full breaths. I'd never performed well under stress and now it was taking its toll when we least needed it. One of us had to keep a level head and I couldn't expect that of Shelly when I myself was barely holding it together.

"I'm sorry, my fingers - God, I'm shaking so bad," she sniffed, scrubbing at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

I gingerly grabbed my phone and began to take over for her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. "We're gonna be okay," I told her. I refused to believe otherwise.

_Dammit, I'm shaking too. _My fingers could barely do what I wanted them to.

Just as I'd successfully typed in, 'Italian Police number' on the search engine, Shelly snatched my phone and shut it off. The small screen of light had been a small comfort. Now we were in utter darkness. I didn't ask her why she'd done it because there was no need.

The sound of many pairs of feet slapping across the linoleum, the click of bullets as they were slid into guns, and the slam of doors closing on its hinges was enough to have us tense up and hold our breaths.

"Oh great, now what?" a gravelly voice echoed throughout the space. "Where you at, Nate?"

Shelly grabbed my hand in hers and trembled.

We didn't get a chance to prepare for what happened next. A deafening crash shattered through the ballroom and glass showered down onto the floor.

Immediately, gunfire ripped through the air at the man who had burst through the window.

"Jesus Christ! Nathan?" A startled shout near my left sounded.

"Hey, how's it going?"

I peered around the wooden edge of the podium. There were two men crouched behind a column in dress pants and a dress shirt, their guns drawn. My eyes rounded. "The fucking waiter," I hissed in disbelief. There he was, looking every bit the scoundrel I'd thought he was. And to my shock, I recognized the other man beside him. I'd never mistake that 2000's haircut for anyone else I'd nearly bumped into tonight.

My hands balled into fists. Of all the rooms this asshole had to crash-land into why did it have to be ours?

"I think I'm done with this auction, huh?" the waiter wise-cracked. Was he even a waiter? Was the cross on him? If it was, could I chance a dash across the room to take it from him?

_No, don't be stupid._

Right as I resolved not to involve myself, a man stepped around the side of our podium, his attention locked on the men in front of him. He raised his gun and fired.

Shelly screamed and buried her head between her knees. The man named Nathan swung around and aimed his gun at the perpetrator - but I was quicker. With a yell, I dove for the man's legs, jabbing hard at his knees with the back of my hand and unbalancing him. He fell hard onto his side, his gun skittering over the linoleum.

Oh shit, what the hell was I supposed to do now?

Before I could think, Nathan slammed his foot down hard on the man's head, knocking him out cold.

"Oh, hey ladies," the waiter winked, firing over the podium at more men. He swerved to avoid a hail of bullets that bit into the wall before us.

"Thanks," I huffed, snatching the gun off the floor. It was unexpectedly heavy in my hands and warm from its owner's grip. With this, I could end someone's life. My breath hitched in my throat at the reality of what this piece of metal could do. My gaze slid to where Shelly was cowering, her face wet from tears.

There was no time to consider the moral implications of this. We were in danger. I wouldn't sit back and let someone kill me without doing anything. Especially not Shelly.

"You know how to shoot?" Nathan asked me.

"I'll learn," I ground out through gritted teeth, hefting the bulky death-contraption between both of my hands.

Nathan winced. He was dripping with sweat and the telltale blush of bruises was slowly forming on his skin. What the hell had happened to him?

For a split second, I saw a grim conclusion spark in the waiter's eyes. He would leave us to die if we slowed him down, his expression seemed to say. As quickly as he'd let his mask slip, he plastered on a carefree one. "Come on, Nate. Let's clear a path. After us, ladies."

Shelly stuck like glue to the waiter and I shadowed Nathan as they moved closer to the exit. Each shot of theirs hit their marks in some way or another. I wasn't sure I could help at all and frankly, I didn't want to be responsible for someone's death.

The waiter pushed Shelly behind him against a column and took out two men with exactly two bullets. Yeah, he wasn't a waiter…and what's more, I couldn't see a hint of the stolen cross on him.

As we slowly cut a path through the ballroom, a man slunk around Nathan's blindspot and came at him from the side. Reflexively, I swung the gun out and clocked him about the head. He fell into a heap at my feet.

"Nice one," Nathan praised me, his eyebrows high on his forehead in surprise.

Shakily, I held the gun close to my chest. "Let's just get out of here," I said, eyeing our exit which was only a few feet away.

"Already ahead of you," the waiter purred, leaving Shelly behind to take out another man coming through the doors. I bristled, moving to shield my friend and raising my gun ahead of me. He'd left her wide open and defenseless - what was he thinking?

Clearly he was used to having a partner in crime, because this Nathan dude was like his mirror. They dispatched their enemies like they'd been fighting together for ages, practiced but strangely sloppy in their technique. It wasn't just for any wounds they'd endured. They simply weren't trained.

Yet here they were, taking out security thugs like it was an everyday hobby for them. Maybe it was.

I nudged Shelly into action when our two prospective allies cleared a path for us - only to freeze when more goons started up the stairs and wound through the garden, shooting indiscriminately. Shelly jerked back wildly, snapping her heel clean off the sole and tumbling down the stairs.

With a surge of adrenaline, I gathered her to her feet and caught the sight of blood coating her arms. As I slung one of her arms over my shoulders, Nathan and the waiter flung themselves into cover behind a column on the garden's grounds.

"I got you," I consoled my friend, taking the steps as fast as she could with her injuries. Unfortunately for us, Nathan and his buddy were making quick progress of clearing through the premises. Nathan looked back over at us, waving a hand for us to hurry.

Right as I took another step, a bullet shot through the night. I staggered, almost dropping Shelly as a flame of pain burned through my shoulder. Nathan's eyes went wide and he started back for us when another enemy stepped into his path.

A deafening boom rose over the spray of bullets and a white car screeched into the lawn. "Come on, Nate!" the waiter roared, shoving his friend toward the car. "They'll be fine. We gotta go."

"But she's hurt -

"We gotta go," the waiter interrupted him, not even sparing us a glance as he shoved his friend into the car. The tires screamed like banshees as it pulled away from the onslaught of bullets.

"That fucking coward," I hissed, clutching Shelly to me. "We gotta get inside," I told her, struggling back up the stairs with her.

"Leave me," she murmured, sagging against my side. "I'm slowing you down. I can't even walk straight I'm shaking so bad. Liz, just hide somewhere. I'll play possum."

Her words were slurred. Tears pricked my vision and I hauled her up the stairs with me, pushing past the flaring burn of the bullet in my shoulder. "Don't you dare. I'm not leaving you, you hear me?"

"I'm sorry," she was saying. "I wanted you to see the cross so I pushed you to go."

"Don't apologize," I bit out, trying to drag her with me over the last few steps.

"You warned me about everything, but I didn't listen," she cried.

A suffocating feeling gripped my heart. "Just two more steps, that's it. Okay we're almost inside -

Men rushed to surround us. I lifted my gun weakly, glaring at the guy in front of me. "Move," I snarled. Shelly's weight was peeled off of me and I spun around with a screech as one of the men dragged her away and threw her onto the ground. "Don't touch her!"

I raised the gun and sucked in a breath, squeezing the trigger.

Something hard connected with my face, knocking me back. I tripped over my heels and the gun flung from my grip, sending bullets arcing into the air. The impact of concrete against my skull sent flashes of light dancing across my vision. A high-pitched ringing split my eardrums, and I was vaguely aware of pushing myself to my knees.

The world spun and I dug my fingers hard into the pavement, registering the scrape of it against my fingertips.

"Where is it?" a woman's voice sounded somewhere above me. "I'm tired of chasing you around."

Blinking against the dots spotting my vision, I stared up at the woman in red. She glared down at me with disdain. "What are you talking about?" I groaned. Swaying on my feet, I moved to stand protectively over Shelly. "We're just trying to get out of here."

"I saw you running away with Nate." The woman backhanded me, sending me careening into the stone railing. My spine connected with it so hard I cried out. "Now hand it over."

"What is up with everyone and this cross?" I coughed, shaking my head in an attempt to clear the ringing. "I don't have it."

The woman kneed me in the stomach so hard I thought I'd throw up all of my organs. Crumpling to the ground, I wheezed. She searched me as I fought to collect my bearings. Finding no such cross on my person, she let me go and turned to Shelly.

One of her men leveled the muzzle of his gun at her temple.

I didn't think. I lunged for him, trying to rip the gun from his hold. He shook me off and then the woman wrapped one hand around my throat. "Where is the artifact?" she growled as I scratched at her hand, hoping something would loosen her grip. Her fingers only constricted tighter about my windpipe.

Darkness was clouding my sight - I lashed out at her, kicking her hard in the ribs with my heels. She dropped me with a curse and retaliated instantly with another swift kick to the gut. At least she'd have a bruise from me. Unable to withstand her brute strength, I toppled over Shelly's body. Then she picked my gun up from the ground. All I could think was that, if she shot me, at least I was covering my friend.

But of course, life never goes as planned.

"Liz?" Shelly gasped, pushing herself up to cradle me in her arms.

"No, don't," I tried to fight her off, if only to protect her, as the woman above me pressed the gun to my forehead. The cold metal was like ice water, sloughing off my anger. And in its place was nothing but fear.

"Please," I begged, scowling at her bitterly. "We don't have it."

The woman snorted and pressed one hand against her ear. "What?" she drawled, her gun digging into my skin. "The ballroom, where else? Yes - my men are following them. No, of course I didn't think we'd have another team." She sounded very put off.

Another team? Oh. I recognized one of the men beside her. They'd been with her from the start. Which meant these were _her _men. So then the other guys were security employed by the auction house. This woman wasn't here to return the stolen artifact, no she wanted it for her own designs.

"Liz!" Shelly's frantic voice rose an octave higher as I fought to maintain consciousness. My whole body felt heavy, weighted down. Fire licked through my shoulder. "Liz, hang on!"

The woman above me stiffened, her finger on the trigger. "What?" she snapped. "You've got to be kidding me. Alright, fine. Better hurry before I shoot her brains out then - she's making it difficult."

I focused on the cold metal of the muzzle, on the lick of flames in my shoulder. Anything to keep me awake. The woman stared down her nose at me and her men shifted about, training their own guns on me and Shelly. Sweat pooled under my arms and trailed down my back.

"Nadine!" A shout rose above the thumping of my pulse in my head. I slid a glance to the side and saw a man in a bone-white tuxedo step out of the ballroom. Adler. His eyes were like shards of ice as he took in the scene before him. "Put the gun away," he commanded her.

To my surprise, the woman - Nadine, pulled the gun away from my forehead. The stamp of the muzzle felt permanently etched into my skin and I nearly collapsed from fatigue as Adler stepped through the throng of men to kneel before me. His shoes crunched against the concrete and his cologne wafted around me. Something spicy and warm.

I could hardly keep myself steady, even with Shelly holding me up. "You fuckass," I spat at him, unable to conceal my hatred for him any more.

He blinked, bunching his lips to the side. "Fuckass?" he repeated, perplexed. "That's new."

"You're a liar, too. How do you know me?" I snapped, reaching out to grab his tie. Nadine lifted her gun as if to strike me with it, but Adler held up an arm.

"Miss Winslow, I can't say it's exactly a pleasure to see you again in this manner." He tilted my chin up with a finger, inspecting the cuts on me and the bruises now forming on my skin. "Not many men are brave enough to cross Nadine and yet here you are, picking fights with her."

I seethed with fury. "She shot my best friend when we were only trying to get out of here!"

"I did no such thing!" she said, glowering at me.

Adler's gaze hardened as he lifted a dark glance up at Nadine. "We agreed not to involve the public."

"A little difficult to do when everything goes to hell," she retorted glibly.

Rafe assessed me, frowning at the wound in my shoulder. "I won't tolerate this again. If your men can't keep their bullets out of civilians then we're going to have a problem."

Nadine's hackles rose at the slight to her men. But she didn't say anything. This must be a common occurrence.

"How do you know me?" I repeated my question, yanking weakly on his tie for emphasis. "Creep. You don't just pretend to meet someone when you know their name."

His lips curled at the edges. "It's not hard to find out anyone's name, Liz. But, I believe I have a proposition that may interest you."

"We don't have your goddamned cross, alright?" My voice trembled pitifully and I hated myself for it.

Rafe only shrugged. "Of course you don't. Now if you'd be so kind as to answer one little question for me. What significance does the year 1659 hold for you?"

They say epiphanies can hit you out of nowhere, but more often than not there are several clues leading up to that pivotal moment of clarity. I could already feel the needling intrusion of one, aching to push some grain of knowledge into my skull.

Rafe knelt before me, his fingers propping up my chin as if he were looking over some kind of art piece he meant to purchase. Judging by the men around him, his impeccable attire and his overflowing confidence, it was clear he had been birthed in a box of silverware. And he was the knife.

He had no need for the cross as decoration, nor was it simply about money. He had more than plenty. No, this was far deeper than that.

His nostrils flared in delight, reading the revelation as it dawned on me. Why he was here. But it didn't clear up everything and I frowned, unsure.

"Henry Avery was born that year," I choked out.

To my astonishment, a wickedly excited grin broke across his features. Rafe Adler...an American businessman on a mission for one of the most famous pirate captain's artifacts. Or rather, the treasure it could lead him to.

Perhaps I'd lost more blood than I'd thought, because the very idea that someone else was interested in the same dead man's treasure was enticing. I wasn't alone in this fantasy of unearthing Henry Avery's secrets - he simply had the money to make it a reality.

But that didn't change the fact that me and my best friend had been hurt because of him - whether he'd done it or not. And for no other reason than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As if he'd heard my thoughts, Rafe smiled pleasantly and removed from his pocket a piece of paper. He nudged it into my hands, urging me to read it. Nervously, I accepted the paper from him and unfolded it. My eyes bugged and I dropped the thing as if I'd been burned.

"W-what - I don't understand -

"School loans are quite the pickle, or so I've heard," he smoothly replied, picking up the paper and smoothing it out for me to see. "You've racked up quite the debt, haven't you? I don't mean to offend, but considering your situation, you'd never get out of it - at least not until your late eighties."

Shelly's arms tightened around me as I started to quiver. "What is this? Some kind of joke?" I whispered. My entire student loan debt. He'd paid it off. In full.

"I don't joke around - it would be bad for business." I raised my head to stare at him, open-mouthed. "I'm very sorry I didn't get to you before this whole fiasco happened. I intended to ask you about this earlier but considering everything that happened, well that wouldn't have been the best timing, wouldn't you say? And you did believe me a thief, didn't you?"

"I don't understand," I stuttered, feeling faint.

Instead of responding, Rafe pulled out something from his tuxedo. Something that made my flesh pucker. "I meant to throw it away until I looked through it. I'm always looking for that," he sucked in air between his teeth, "good stuff. If you know what I mean."

I didn't, really, but the way he said it spoke volumes. He was going to get what he wanted, one way or another. A small, traitorous part of me liked how ambitious he was. Rafe flipped through my fashion sketchpad - which was also my portfolio for the gala - pursuing the designs. He didn't linger for long, however. I nearly cried out in dismay, because when he skipped to the middle, there was my mini notebook shoved between the pages.

My embarrassingly in-depth notebook filled to the brim with my findings on Henry Avery. Or rather, my speculations. I'd forgotten to remove it before I'd gone on this trip.

"The fashion industry is mercilessly competitive, as you no doubt know. Standing it out is everything. But color me surprised to find this little cache of treasure." He paused on one page in particular, a sketch I'd made of Avery's sigil, the infamous skull and crossbones. Except, he wasn't looking at the sigil. He was staring at the small rendition of the Saint Dismas cross beside it.

"I also understand that your parents are struggling," he said gently, as if to lessen the blow. "As I'm sure you've guessed, I'm looking for Henry Avery's treasure. While I've made astounding progress as it is, I wouldn't be averse to more assistance."

Nadine rolled her eyes at that. And I recalled the gossip I'd heard tonight, about how he'd been taking forever to find something. That had to be Henry Avery's treasure, right?

"You'd be compensated most generously, of course."

I instantly responded with a cutting edge to my words. "Yeah, I'd love to help someone responsible for hurting my best friend. Are you out of your mind? You guys are probably going out guns blazing into everything. I don't want a part in that."

Rafe didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. Rather, concern touched his features. "I'm very sorry about that." He sounded like he meant it. "I will ensure you and your friend will be given proper medical treatment."

He said it so casually, like this wasn't new to him. Like people got hurt a lot around him.

"I never agreed to anything."

He paused, holding out once again another piece of paper. With a huff I accepted it from him, fighting against a wave of dizziness. He spoke before I could even open my mouth. "If you would join my team and provide your background knowledge to this expedition, I promise to pay off all of your family's financial problems. Everything. On top of that, you may name any price you'd like for yourself."

The paperwork contained a terrifyingly detailed look into my parent's financial record. This was obviously illegal.

Rafe let go of my chin, but his warmth lingered. "You don't have to agree, but I can see you've wanted something different for your life. Something that makes you feel _alive_."

Shelly's arms slackened around me and I caught her just before she passed out. "This is all so sudden," I stammered, brushing the hair back from her forehead.

"Nadine, have her treated right away."

Her lips became a straight line but she left us, taking her men with her as she strolled away and into the ballroom. Rafe paused to order one of his men to carry Shelly and I panicked.

"I promise you she'll not be harmed."

The man carried out Shelly in a sweep of her golden gown. Scarlet drops hit the ground as they passed us.

"Do you really want to be stuck in fashion forever? I can see you want something greater," he tried again.

"You don't know me," I snapped coldly.

"One's journal is a reflection of one's innermost thoughts," he pointed out, silencing future protests from me. "Think on it," he offered. "I won't force you to agree and I won't rescind paying off your debt...but there is no limit to what I can offer you should you join me. Besides, I noticed you saw Sully had fled the crime scene. You're observant," he praised me, his voice dipping low. "And that is what I'm lacking on this team. Nadine's men are quick to destroy what little detail is there to be pondered over. They act without thinking, sweeping up others into their mess. I need someone rational on my side, someone who knows about the man we're following. Someone passionate and promising."

He pulled me to my feet, wrapping a steady arm about me as I sagged against him. "Anything you desire can be yours," he murmured, his warm breath tickling my ear.

I hated myself for even considering his temptations. Because I knew, just as much as he did, that _I didn't want to work in fashion for the rest of my life. _That all I wanted was to repay my parents for everything and to make them proud of me.

And if Rafe Adler could give me a taste of the life I'd always dreamed of...I'd want more and more of it. Until I couldn't get enough.

* * *

**Reviews are always appreciated! **


	4. Chapter 4

"Congratulations, sweetie. It must have been a long journey," said the lady on the other end of the phone. "Enjoy the rest of your day now."

"You too. Thanks," I managed to say before she cut the call. I dropped my phone into my lap, staring mutely at the tasteful yellow wallpaper of our hotel's room. My mouth went dry_. _"I'm debt free," I told Shelly, feeling as if I was talking about someone else.

For six years, I'd scrimped and saved every cent I could. I'd sold all but the basic necessities in order to make even the smallest dent in my debt. All I could call my own in my apartment was a futon, the food in my kitchen, the clothes neatly folded into a pile on my floor, the utilities I paid for, a tiny pencil-holder's worth of makeup and feminine products, and my portfolio.

I might never have gotten out of my debt had I not come to Italy. It was surreal.

"Well shit," Shelly said good-naturedly from her perch across from me on her bed. "Maybe if I hadn't fainted like some delicate flower he might've paid off mine too. Congrats, by the way. Really."

"Anyone would've fainted in your position," I said.

A week ago, we'd attended the Rossi Estate auction where me and my best friend had nearly died in a shootout between the auction's security and Nadine Ross' paramilitary.

Explaining the altercation to both of our families and our boss wasn't the kind of bear you wanted to poke. Peter was all too ready to get mauled though, blowing up our phones and demanding answers to why we extended our stay in Italy. I'd blocked his number after wishing him well with the gala. If he knew what had happened he'd do all in his power to get us fired for dealing with criminals.

"Gonna miss those stilettos," she continued with a rueful sigh, lifting one leg up to wiggle her painted toes. "Though I suppose if they just snap off they weren't the best to begin with."

Rafe had kept his word so far. After our discharge from the hospital, he'd secured for us a room in the hotel he and his team were currently occupying. Later the next day, I met with him to talk about what he wanted me to do for him, in the event that I agreed to take this job.

Shelly had come along, eyeing my prospective contractor over a glass of wine as he answered my questions. With the request that I give him an answer in two days, Shelly and I had retired to our room to mull things over. He hoped that a, "sneak peek into the expedition" would prove tempting enough. To both mine and Shelly's surprise, he'd asked her to join me, flashing a devilishly charming smile for effect.

_Clever _, I thought to myself. He likely surmised that winning over one of us would sway the other. He had no choice but to try when his own hired help had nearly killed us.

Which brought me to the most concerning aspect of this entire situation. Namely, the danger associated with it. While Rafe Adler's records were almost squeaky clean - minus one Panamanian incarceration - Nadine Ross's were downright horrifying. She wasn't simply a goddess glowing with carnal power. No, she was more than that. Her late father had founded an army for hire called Shoreline. For the right price, they'd lend their services. There was no shortage of atrocities they'd been a part of either, painting for themselves a reputation blacker than ink. And now _she _owned the paramilitary.

I figured Rafe knew what he was doing, being the son of a prodigious business family and all. Still, he'd hired a predator whose claws were kept sheathed only by the terms of their mutual contract.

Pressing my palm against my temple, I released a sigh.

Shelly's voice softened in a prelude to her main argument, as she often did when trying to coax irate customers unsatisfied with their orders. "Before we left, you told me you weren't happy with this job. That you wanted to become a treasure hunter." There was nothing but sincerity in her words, goading me to glance in her direction. "If you can find something that pays well, then why not? No point in being miserable."

It had taken me until last year to claim a position as an intern in this company; I had a few months left to decide if I wanted to become a part of the team. While it wasn't a huge company, it could afford me opportunities later down the road. It also paid the bills. A part of me felt downright selfish for not finding contentment in my work. Many people had no choice between financial stability and happiness. I'd known that feeling for far too long.

Now things could be different. Maybe I wouldn't have to work two jobs just to stay afloat. With one word, I could have more than enough money to never worry about my future again.

My fingers brushed over the statement he had given me listing my total student debt - the one absolving me of financial shackles. Judging from the amount he'd nearly blown during the auction house (God rest little Saint Dismas' plundered wooden soul), there was no end to the shackles he could shatter for me.

Knuckles bleeding white from my grip, I frowned down at the numbers as they blurred into thick red droplets of blood. Into the sweep of Shelly's gown as she was ferried away by Shoreline. How could I even consider his proposal? If that bullet had hit Shelly anywhere else -

"Remember what you told me? We always have each other," she continued, watching me struggle to come to terms with the chance before me. I tried to drown out her words, tried to bury my traitorous desires deep within my bones. "And as your friend I want you to choose something for yourself for once."

Goddamn it all. Rafe was already winning this one.

Guilt scraped along my nerves. "Even if that choice involves obviously bad company?" I dared to ask.

"Okay, then how about a travel program?"

"I'd rather not rack up a new debt," I managed a self-deprecating smile. "Well, you tell me. Do you think he's withholding anything?" Rafe had been forthcoming in all he required of me. Of all the potential risks and dangers that could befall me.

After a long, considerate pause, Shelly shook her head. "Seemed honest to me. For a criminal, I mean."

"So not at all," I commented, earning a snort from her end. All of them were wolves dressed up to partake of naive Little Red. But here I was, walking right into their den. Way to heed my own advice.

I held up my own makeshift contract, bearing Rafe's elegant signature, which stated I could leave at any time if I felt unsafe. That I was also guaranteed a way back. I'd saved copies just in case.

As the law says, if you enter into an agreement with someone you should get it in writing. He'd easily agreed, reassuring me I was here only to provide insight and knowledge regarding the historical aspects of the job. Why the man didn't think to hire an actual historian was a mystery.

"I'm coming along, you know," she said. "Gotta see if I can get some dough from him."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

A twinkle caught her eye. "Which is why I leave my fate in your did invite me, didn't he? Anywho, I'm impressed, Liz," she said as my jaw practically unhinged. "For someone so meek, you don't hesitate to fight anyone in your way. Maybe those video games you play desensitized you or something."

"Shelly," I snapped, my voice raw. "I thought you were going to_ die _. Please take this a little more seriously, alright? I don't want to lose you."

Before she could answer, a sharp knock sounded on our door. Swallowing the lump in my throat and schooling my expression, I moved to check the peephole. Even if Rafe had said no one but he or Nadine would come to check up on us, I'd rather play it safe.

To my surprise, my contractor wasn't waiting for me in an attempt to seduce me into his bargain liked I'd been expecting. Instead, Nadine Ross's steely gaze bore through mine as if she could see right through the door.

"You're right, sorry. I didn't want to worry you." Shelly said softly. I paused with my hand on the door knob. "Bad with tension and all. Like you, just more crazy, huh?"

A small smile teased my lips upward. "That's putting it lightly," I said. "But thank you. I understand."

Then I opened the door. Power practically radiated from Nadine's person as she took in the sight of my puffy eyes and ashen complexion. Almost defensively, I rolled my shoulders back and straightened my posture.

In response, she said, "I take it you've made your decision?"

Her accent rolled off the tongue, almost playfully. She oozed confidence and capability - traits I desperately wished I had. But then I remembered the strength behind her blows and where I was.

"I have. Is Rafe around?"

She tilted her head back, leering down her nose at me. Assessing. "A little too preoccupied with telling my men what to do," she said curtly. "I suggest you bundle up." She tossed a pile of heavy, winter coats at me. From within the folds tumbled out boots, gloves and other gear, landing in a heap at my feet.

"I'm thoroughly baffled by everything that's happened," she muttered, eyeing Shelly's chipped nails and bright pink nightgown. "Now listen here: I won't tolerate excuses. If you're competent, good. But if you get in the way of my men, that's on you." She made sure to pin me with a cutting glare. "Let's get a move on."

* * *

"I've never been to Scotland," Shelly announced excitedly. We'd been flying for some time on one of Rafe's private jets, with me seated next to my best friend and Nadine situated across from us. The leader of Shoreline gazed out through the window, her arms folded across her chest.

As the skies outside our window frosted over into slate grays, I contemplated my predicament. I was just going to see how things were supposed to be handled, that's all. Plain and simple.

What concerned me more than it should, however, was how perfectly the clothes we'd been given fit us. They were warm and snug, a good barrier against the cold. It didn't completely keep out the creep of winter air, but it served better than any coat I'd ever owned. The boots were a perfect fit, though they'd need to be broken in somewhat. I could already feel the hint of the bruises I'd pick up along this little journey. Picking at my sleeve, I loosed a breath which curled into a white cloud before me. When I'd asked Nadine about how oddly our outfits fit us, she'd simply said that the internet provided more information than anyone knew what to do with and that I shouldn't pester Rafe like I had with her or else he would send me home.

"Wonderful," I grumbled.

The silence had finally taken its toll on Shelly though, and she strove to fill it with conversation. Nadine didn't seem inclined to indulge her as she continued to rave about her recent obsession, _Outlander _.

"Thrilling," Nadine drawled, unimpressed. With a dismissive arch of her eyebrows, she jutted her chin in my direction. "Expect to be toiling away until we uncover something." Her jaw clenched. "I'm about ready to blow the place to smithereens and be done with it but he's too damned paranoid about destroying some magical clue we somehow overlooked."

Cautiously, I asked, "What exactly are you looking for?"

A sardonic snarl twisted her features. "Don't go telling him that. You know what his end goal is, I take it? Then focus on finding whatever he couldn't in the years he's been at this treasure hunt."

Digesting this rather disconcerting information, I sat up taller in my seat. "Alright, fair enough. Where have you looked?" Years? Good lord, how did he expect me to turn up something his entire team hadn't in however long it had been for them?

I shared a knowing look with Shelly, who offered me a grimace in return.

"The cathedral. Damn thing might as well be someone's casket for all I care. Useless." Nadine returned her gaze to the window, her jaw clenched. "Here, make yourself busy." She handed me a folded piece of paper.

It was torn and caked with dust, yellowing at the corners and splotched with what I assumed to be coffee stains. But more important than the apparent overuse it had seen was what it contained. Unfolding it, I frowned. It was the blueprint to the cathedral. What's more, Rafe Adler's name was stamped on the corner.

"Holy crap," I breathed, catching Shelly's attention. I paused to show her his proof of ownership and she blinked several times, as if she wasn't sure she was reading things correctly. Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, I looked over the rudimentary skeleton of his cathedral.

There was no telling whether I'd be successful at all, but I wasn't going to half-heartedly go about this little "preview" Rafe was so intent on me checking out. Not when so much money had already been thrown at me. Nadine didn't seem the type to accept anything less than perfection. As for Rafe, he was oddly keen on this whole ordeal, from the sound of it.

A thrill washed over me as I held their hard work in my hands.

"You've been at this for a while," I commented, forgetting myself.

Thankfully, Nadine didn't take it as a personal affront. "Too long," she conceded. "Not sure how the hell you're supposed to find something we can't."

I pored over the handwritten notes scrawled all over the paper. "Yeah, I agree with you there." There really wasn't much to go off of except they wanted me to find something. What that 'something' was could be anything. I pulled out my mini notebook and flipped through the pages. "What makes you so certain this clue you're looking for is in the cathedral?"

"We've combed the entire goddamned place. The stupid graveyard, the surrounding area, you name it."

My fingers ghosted over a small doodle of a skull and crossbones with crossed cutlasses.

"Graveyard, huh?

Nadine regarded me with a flicker of interest, making a considering noise in the back of her throat. "There's nothing there, trust me. We're nearly there, so listen close: Rafe expects results, good ones. Don't think yourselves immune to his temper just because he spared your life. You fuck up, you may not get another chance."

A chill spider-walked down my spine. "Understood."

Shelly quietly observed our exchange. She knew I was the type who preferred a leader to follow, craving praise like she yearned for the finer things in life. That wasn't to say I had no backbone. A goal before me was all I desired, but when I had someone see me reach it, it made the victory all the sweeter. Likewise, it made my failures all the more crushing, an imprint to my psyche.

That was I needed in a job to be fulfilled. Expectations and a desire to complete them.

I glanced at Shelly, who was watching me with a hint of pride shining in her eyes. She was right. My debt had been paid off. Now that I had the chance to pursue my dream, I should take it. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be happy when I could be. Squandering it then and there was foolish, even if this dream might technically already be foolish in and of itself.

Besides, I rationalized, I could still say no. This was just like a test. If it wasn't for me, then I'd lost nothing. Shelly and I would enjoy our vacation leave and then we'd return to our normal lives and forget all about this.

"Now you can see if _Outlander _is faithful to its inspiration," I teased Shelly, who was pressed against the window as if she could spirit herself out of the glass and begin her tour of the country.

"Oh sweet Jamie, please have a clone," she prayed, her breath fogging up the glass.

* * *

**AN: So I forgot to upload everything I posted to fanfic... Whoops. I usually use AO3 so I have 8 chapters already uploaded for this fic. I usually upload on there first but I always forget to upload on here and on wattpad. I'll do my best to remember but yeah, my bad. If you'd prefer to read on AO3, I have images uploaded for the story and it's always up-to-date. But it's perfectly fine if you'd rather read it on here! I'll do my best to remember to post on here!**


	5. Chapter 5

Less than three hours away from Scotland, Nadine had finally wrested control from Rafe. With one hand pressed to her earpiece, she sighed. "The first patrol knows what they're doing. Trust me."

During the flight, she had convinced Rafe to let her try her way of getting business done. He'd adamantly been against it, if their heated argument were any indication, but soon she'd gotten the upper hand and now she was directing her men through her radio transmitter.

"I want that site detonated and I want the southern one demolished by the time I get back. Make it happen."

"Detonated?" I repeated, recalling her mention of wanting to blow the place up to smithereens.

"Unless you want to be at it another fifteen years then yes, I'm setting this place ablaze."

"Fifteen?" I sputtered.

My mind spun. There had to be an explanation for why this search was taking so long.

Still, I highly doubted Nadine wanted my input on the risks associated with detonating what could be hiding whatever it was they were struggling to find.

Settling down in my seat, I got to work studying the paperwork she'd given me.

When our private jet touched down on Scotland's lands, the view we were greeted with was not of sprawling verdant hills or crumbling castles. Powdered snow, yellowed grass and harsh planes of stone hailed us instead. I drew my coat tighter about myself, bracing for Nadine to open the door and blast us all with blustering winds.

"With me," Nadine said, interrupting my thoughts. She reached over to open the door.

There was a loud _snick _sound as Shelly unbuckled her seat belt.

"Jamie, here I come," she proclaimed. With that, she pushed ahead of Nadine and out into the world.

"I said with me!" the other woman snapped.

Stifling a laugh, I followed Nadine out of the jet and onto flat, rough earth. To my relief, the winds were barely more than a whisper through our hair.

Nadine held up one hand to shield her vision from the sun as she scanned the horizon. Static sounded at her hip; she answered her transmitter with a weary voice. "The northwest sites too. I don't care if he throws a hissy fit."

"He sounds very unlike the man I met," I said, carefully choosing my words.

Who knew what she would do to me or Shelly if I pissed her off. I'd been wondering about her relationship to Rafe for a while and I'd come to the conclusion that she wasn't some mere goon he'd hired.

She had power.

Gravel crunched underfoot as I moved to stand beside her, squinting against the harsh sunlight bleeding through watery gray skies. An expanse of dried yellow grass poked up from the earth to scratch our leather boots, rustling with the faintest breeze. The scent of ice wreathed around me, nipping at exposed skin and freezing any warmth to a chill.

For a moment I feared she wouldn't answer me at all or that perhaps she was struggling against the urge to strike me for my impudence. I leaned back away somewhat, remembering the feeling of her hand whipping across my face, of her fingers squeezing around my throat.

"He's a man-child dressed up for a world he can't handle," she murmured, taking me aback. "Which is why he needs a reality check." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "He's going to lose his damn mind when he sees what the dynamite do."

"So? You're not just his employee," I spoke up, earning a glare from her.

"Excuse you?"

"You're partners, right? I doubt the man you're describing would let just anyone do as they please. Not with something this expensive."

To be fair, Rafe probably didn't care one whit about how much money he spent if the auction house was anything to go by.

Her gaze roved over me, guarded. "What's your point?"

I shrugged. "Maybe he should work together with the people he hired, not against them." If he was willing to let her blow the place up then he valued her opinion. Even if it was a last resort. Some people wanted full control of everything and everyone; when they didn't get their way, things got ugly.

Was Rafe that kind of person? Or was he so focused on his end goal that he couldn't see assistance for what it was?

As if she could read my thoughts, she scratched her neck. "He wasn't so bad before," she said, her mouth twisting into a wry grin.

Realizing I was skating a little too close to personal matters, I jammed my hands into my pockets and kicked at a stray pebble. "So where to?"

Right as Nadine opened her mouth to respond, Shelly let out a frustrated shriek. She was hunched over on the ground uttering a profusion of curses.

"She hates the cold," I tried to explain as my best friend started to run around in a circle in an attempt to warm herself up.

"Clearly," Nadine said, absolutely flabbergasted. She tried her best to ignore Shelly as she pointed ahead to a crumbling building in the near distance.

The faint silhouette of a cross rose rose up from its perch like a rooster announcing a new morning.

"My men are working outside and beneath the cathedral. Knowing Rafe, he'll put you to work looking through documents and paperwork. Oh my God, will you stay still?"

"I'm sorry it's colder than balls out here!" Shelly retorted, snubbing her nose at Nadine.

I grabbed Shelly's arm and pulled her to my side. "It'll be worse if we stay outside," I tried to placate her. "Let's go before it gets windy."

Shelly shuddered, glancing around the space as she twined her hair around a finger. "Yeah, good idea."

When we glanced back at Nadine, she was already making her way up a slight incline toward the base.

* * *

The inside of the cathedral was damp and dank and steeped in greed. Darkness lurked in every nook and cranny, mold settled in the grooves and a sense of foreboding hung thick over us. Any semblance of the Holy Ghost had long since abandoned the place, letting it fester with mortals searching for treasure in its belly.

"Goddammit," Nadine growled, jamming a finger against her earpiece.

"Yeesh, someone walked over her pedicure -

I reached up to clap a hand over Shelly's mouth just as Nadine stomped her foot down. Luckily her wrath wasn't directed at her.

"She's angry," Shelly commented, heedless of the danger she was putting herself in as the woman before us rampaged down the building.

"Do you really want to set her off?"

"Keep up," Nadine barked at us, breaking into a run.

"How the hell did these two even become partners?" I mused aloud, grimacing when Shelly shot me a smug look for breaking my own advice.

Together, we raced after Nadine through the cathedral, charging past large rooms filled with pews and confessionals. Rusty candelabras and stoups stuck out of the walls while gold trimming on the ceiling shone dully beneath the grime smudging its surface.

Rounding a corner that led out into a courtyard ahead of us, we met up with Nadine. The sun had chosen to hide itself behind a covering of clouds and when I saw what was going on, I wished I could hide too.

Nadine's hands were planted on her hips, her legs spread shoulder-width apart while Rafe Adler marched back and forth across the yard. A member of Shoreline was crouched on the grass in front of his commander, cradling one arm to his chest. A trickle of blood ran down his forearm

All around them stood a group of Shoreline mercenaries, machine guns and snipers in their hands. Bright yellow storage boxes branded with their company name dotted the premises, small wooden drawers filled with sticks of dynamite sitting atop their surfaces.

They cast wary glances at each other, while some threw Rafe downright venomous glares.

Someone behind me muttered to his buddy, "I told him not to get handsy with the explosives. He'll be lucky if the boss lady doesn't flay him."

Peering closer at his injured arm, I noticed a smear of ash coating his skin. Did he mess up setting the dynamite down and almost blown himself up? Thank God he was alright.

"I don't care," Nadine snapped at her employee, causing him to flinch back from her. "You bungled it up one too many times." For good measure, she kicked him hard in the ribs. "Get down there with the scout patrol before I turn you inside out."

She looked on as he scrambled to his feet and muttered a weak, "Yes, ma'am," before scuttling over to a group of men gathered near a ledge overhanging the courtyard.

With barely a moment to catch his breath, he jumped down onto the hill below and disappeared from view along with his party.

From behind me, the same guy spat onto the ground. "More American pricks. Rich boy need some entertainment or what?"

A dark snicker bubbled around the men behind us, only to choke off when Nadine whipped around to shout at them.

"Do you want to keep those tongues of yours or shall I yank them outta your thick skulls?"

"Sorry, ma'am," they collectively apologized.

With that, she cracked her knuckles. "_ I _reprimand my men, Rafe," she rounded on her partner, eyes blazing.

"Nadine," his tone dipped low in warning.

"Don't make me step in before you cost me another employee."

He came back around to meet her head on, nodding nonchalantly. Like he was only amusing her.

"They're going to do something irreversible." He stepped closer until his mouth was near her ear. But Shelly and I were practically standing right next to her and so we heard his low murmur. "Now if you'll please, let's take this somewhere else."

Nadine scoffed, leaning back to jab a finger at his chest. "No! You started this shit show in front of everyone. My men have only been at this for a few hours. Give them a chance and stop distracting everyone."

A muscle in his jaw ticked and his gaze swept over the audience of Shorliners lining the perimeter.

He wanted to appear infallible, I realized.

Rafe unzipped the top layer of his gray jacket, pushing aside her hand and revealing another jacket beneath the first one. He tucked a gloved finger underneath the collar of his shirt, pulling it down from the base of his throat. Like he was trying to cool himself off from the stress heating him up.

"And in those few hours they've almost botched the entire mission. If they screw this up for me," his voice trailed off dangerously, hinting at a promise.

"How about you be a dear and focus on the manuscripts?" she suggested.

He made a noncommittal grunt, pulling his cell out of his jeans pocket.

"I want you far away from the sites until something turns up," she continued, testing her boundaries.

"Last I checked, I was the one funding this whole thing. I don't recall you being present for your guy's little stunt earlier."

She shook her head, "It's been settled."

"Oh yeah? Well it's a good thing it is because that idiot just about burned down the entire southern site like a Hell's Kitchen fuck up." He pushed a harsh snort of air out through his nostrils. "Jesus, it's almost like the guy never took a chemistry 101 course."

If that was his attempt at a joke, he'd overshot way too far for it to land.

"Go cool off," was all she said.

"This must be a routine," Shelly murmured.

I nodded. Either Nadine was consistently having to take him down a peg or he really didn't know how to keep himself in check. Or both, I surmised.

With a disgruntled sigh, Rafe marched past her only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of us standing beside her.

Shelly tsked.

I tensed beneath his gaze, which was rimmed red. Dark circles shadowed his skin, more prominent than the time I'd seen him at the Rossi Estate. He looked battered and gaunt, like he'd not slept in weeks. Maybe that's why he'd chosen to wear white at the auction house, because black would only turn him into a walking skeleton.

"Miss Nicholson," he dipped his head at Shelly courteously. "Miss Winslow," his gaze flicked to mine.

What an attitude change.

"I was worried you'd decided to ditch me. Then I'd have to come and pick you up myself." He clapped me and Shelly on the shoulder.

"You can call me Shelly if you like, honey. I can't believe you have a private jet," purred Shelly, batting her lashes at him.

He paused, baffled. I wondered if she had flirted so obviously when she'd spoken to him at the estate earlier.

"It's not the best one I own," he admitted, albeit somewhat reluctantly. He let go of her as if afraid to encourage her.

It was an effort not to laugh; I could practically see red flags shining in his irises as he examined her, the warning signs screaming at him to run away before she sank her claws into his investments and bled him dry.

"I'd love to see what other big boys you keep locked away," she winked. "Show me sometime later, m'kay?"

His eyebrows rose so far up on his forehead I feared they'd grow wings and fly away. "Um," he floundered.

Was he not good with dealing with women or was Shelly the kind he couldn't seem to handle? I almost pitied him, almost.

Clearing my throat snagged his attention. An almost imperceptible sigh of relief whooshed out of him, smoothing his stiff shoulders flat at a chance to talk about something else.

While I had no qualms with my best friend trying to pry money out of his endless pockets, I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to try doing so right after his argument with Nadine.

Not to mention how intimate he and Nadine had seemed earlier. Maybe they were a thing? Oh lord, Nadine would tear Shelly's head from her body.

"I'm sure this isn't the first long day you've had," I tried to change the subject, offering him a small quirk of a smile.

His gloved fingers stiffened around my shoulder; I got the distinct impression he didn't want to admit his hard work had been found lacking.

"I'm hoping you might cut down any future time we may waste."

I frowned, holding the blueprint Nadine had given me up to him. At first I thought the same thing when I'd heard how long this search had been going on for. But there were too many variables factoring into it all.

"Securing property doesn't exactly happen in a fortnight. You must've had to wait a while before you could get to work. Give or take a few years, I'd say the amount of research you did in preparation is impressive."

That wasn't even taking into account how long it must've taken him to find a team like Shoreline and then strike a deal with them, bottomless bank account or not.

He tilted his head, interest scrawled all over his expression. "Of course. Sitting around for a miracle never did anyone any favors, now did it? But people conveniently forget how long it takes to buy up whole plots of land."

"I'm sure most people can't afford to," I countered dryly.

Maybe was he referring to Rogers and his buds? They'd mocked him, told him that Drake would steal the glory from under his nose in no time. That must be frustrating to hear.

"You've been thorough," I continued on, reading over the notes I'd studied earlier on the flight.

"Anything leap out at you? A stone left unturned, perhaps?" he asked.

I squared my shoulders and his hand dropped to his side.

"No idea. I'll need to take a look at everything myself. Starting with the graveyard and the chapter-house. The catacombs are a good shot too," I thought aloud, tracing the blueprint with a finger.

He hummed, considering my request with no pittance of intrigue.

I liked how he was looking at me. He'd done so that night at the estate, appraising me like I had potential. It had been too long since someone had last seen that in me. Aside from Shelly, that was.

A rush of adrenaline spiked through my veins, forcing me to stand taller and straighter before him, craving recognition.

Shelly noticed, jamming an elbow into my ribs. "I suppose the bottom can be fun," she said, sending a wave of heat over my face at her innuendo.

Pressing a hand to the sore spot, I shot her a dirty look.

"Unfortunately we haven't made it to the bottom yet, so it's been anything but fun," Rafe told her, completely oblivious to her swirling thoughts. Thank God.

"Anything you can do to get us into the bowels of this beast will be a godsend, if I'm being completely honest. Hence Nadine's...lovely alternative," he bit the words out like they were particularly bitter to swallow.

As if on cue, his partner swiped a stick of dynamite from a wooden box and began to demonstrate to her men the proper way of handling them in the background.

Tugging off one glove with his teeth, he fiddled with his phone's screen. The leather hung between his lips, chapped from the weather. Focused entirely on his phone, he absent-mindedly removed his glove and ran the tip of his tongue over his mouth.

I blinked, forcing my gaze away from him. Great, Shelly was rubbing off on me.

Pulling up a series of photos for me to browse, he snapped his fingers at Nadine, who rolled her eyes and joined him.

"What?"

"Where's the stuff your men wrote? On the dormitories?"

Nadine groaned. "You said if anyone so much as touched one of the headstones you'd pop them."

He sucked in a long breath. "She can mosey on down there later. Get her access to these areas," he said, pointing at sections on the blueprint gripped between my fingers. "And anything else she wants to check."

The color drained from my face at his total disregard for his employees' well-being. "You said what? That's horrible."

Rafe sneered, "Destroying a lead is worse."

"God, what are you, five?" I snapped.

The clamor around us drew to a standstill as the rest of Shoreline paused what they were doing to watch. One man lost his hold on his ammunition belt and it fell onto the grass with a thump.

Rafe's eyes narrowed, the blue of his gaze like chips of ice. He leaned down slightly as if to intimidate me. His breath warmed my face, the sweet smell of coffee fanning over me. "I believe I have more experience handling this sort of thing than they do. Unless you'd rather I let them tear through this place like it's paper?"

I went rigid. "It doesn't matter if you have more experience or not. You don't treat people like they're -

Nadine snagged my wrist and dragged me with her back into the cathedral, effectively cutting off my retort.

Shelly followed after us like a ghost, her expression unreadable.

"I can walk," I said, yanking free of her vice-grip.

She fixed me with a pointed look. "You won't be for much longer if you keep mouthing off to him."

I dragged a hand down my face, trying to expel some of the tension. "You said something earlier about him costing you men? Is he offing them?"

"I told you he expects results," she said, almost flippantly. "And he hasn't, though he's gotten pretty damn close. Now do your job and get us somewhere, okay?"

With that, Nadine sauntered out of the building and back out to meet with Rafe. I stared at the ground, fuming.

He'd almost killed someone. Why? How?

"Wow, he's a tool," Shelly said. "A hot one, but still a tool," she teased, coming up beside me. "Even better, he's dressed like some_ James Bond_ baddie. Maybe he is one, hm?"

She knew I had a weakness for men who dressed like _Bond_ villains. But only in fiction. I ground my teeth. "He gets on my nerves."

Nadine was right: the guy was a man-child. Although it seemed Miss Ross also had a violent streak to her as well. It made sense, I supposed, being the leader of a paramilitary. Yet she valued her men. Rafe just saw them as a means to an end.

"Did you want to go home?"

"No," I said firmly. "I want to show this prick up."

"You don't want to find the treasure?"

I laughed. "I do. But that'll be a bonus."

"Great, because I'll need some time to get some dough outta him."


	6. Chapter 6

A goal, much like food and water, can act as sustenance for one's livelihood. When its seeds are sown and the soil cared for, there's no telling the fruit it might bear. Unchecked ambition, however, produces a different kind of seed. It cuts through the soil and uproots its garden, targeting those whose fruits are good. Chokes them with thorny vines until their lives are but fodder for itself.

I saw it blooming within Rafe Adler, lodged in the hollow of his heart. A weed.

"Ma'am," one of the Shoreline members addressed Nadine. "We've lost contact with both the first and second patrols."

She was bent over a spread of maps and enlarged glossy photos of the tunnels her men had broken into.

"Go on," she said, smoothing out a new map onto the lid of a stone coffin. Her hand brushed against a pile of screws, sending them rolling across the tabletop in various directions.

I deftly moved them out of her way along with the other items cluttering her makeshift desk.

"We believe the weather is interfering with transmissions. There has been no communication on their end."

The first patrol had been sent down to blow up a cluster of old monk quarters while the second patrol had been placed further up as scouts. The man who had gotten in trouble a couple of days ago with Rafe and Nadine over a dynamite screw-up was among that patrol.

"Have you not thought to check on them?" Nadine asked.

"No, ma'am. We need all the hands we can get for this excavation."

"Hm. Alright, just carry on as you have. If you don't make contact with them in a few hours let me know and I'll send someone down there."

His report finished, Nadine dismissed the man. He bowed to her before taking his leave.

Shelly warily looked on from her place in the corner of the room near the door. She was busy warming her hands with her breath, none too keen on standing anywhere near dead people's resting places. Nadine had told her to stay out of the way and she was happy to oblige her.

As for me, I helped draw out floor plans as instructed by Nadine. Not the outcome either of us had expected but she wasn't about to complain when I dutifully ventured after select teams to sketch out new zones they opened, knowing full well that the ceiling could collapse on me at any moment.

In the span of two days, she'd planned her way through to the lower levels of the cathedral. Right where Rafe had wanted to go. Everything about this entire expedition was stressful and taxing, but I couldn't imagine a better job. I mean, technically I could but Nadine was intent on me remaining at her side. It was smart, I reasoned. Better to keep the new person in sight.

With Nadine's guidance I quickly adjusted to the expedition's task at hand. Exhaustion crept into my joints and the cold only exacerbated the pain. Yet it was worth it. Of course, I was still hesitant about the dynamite. She could very well blow up the treasure or any clue leading to its location.

Blinking against bright, blinding fluorescent lights that glared down onto Nadine's work space from equipment placed around the catacomb, I ran a finger over the camera strapped around my neck.

"Is the weather that bad here?" I couldn't think of any other reason for radio interference.

"I'm not so sure it's weather we need to worry about," she trailed off.

"Do you suspect someone?"

She shrugged. "You saw what happened at the auction. Now let's get a move on before Rafe decides he's too impatient or something worse happens."

The auction? I inhaled sharply. "You mean Nathan Drake."

"Aren't you a fast one," she smirked. "Who knows. If it turns out the treasure hunter's on another adrenaline high my men will get him. Best to not mention him to Rafe."

"How come?"

Nadine frowned, realizing she'd said too much. "Get your head out of the clouds and focus."

With a nod, I finished sketching out the northeast tunnels and handed it to her for inspection. As she looked it over I glanced at her map.

"What about the north site?" I asked, tapping the end of my pencil against the paper.

"No word on that yet. Wait your turn." She paused, glancing in my direction. "I'm surprised. You're not incompetent."

I tapped a finger along the pencil's length, internally glowing with pride at earning her praise. "Beats design, that's for sure."

"Please," Shelly groaned from across the room. "I'd take that any day. Ugh, it's cold in here and dusty. My nails are going to hell too."

"They already were," I pointed out and she flipped me off.

Nadine ignored her. "Hmph. Pass me your notes on the western site."

We still had about sixty percent left of ground to cover. Maybe she'd been right to insist on barreling a way through after all.

"What are these? Some kind of symbol?"

"Oh, those? I took pictures too." I offered, watching her flip through the doodles of engravings I'd recorded from my trek through the tunnels.

"Why not. Give it." She flicked through the digital gallery, a small groove forming on her forehead as her brows pinched together. "Hold on. When did you have time for this?"

On the screen was a shot of the graveyard taken from far away from the cathedral's upper windows.

"I really think there's something worth checking out," I began.

The nick in her forehead only deepened. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

"What if you're wrong?" I reached for my notebook, flipping through to my earliest notes. "I looked up the names of the headstones online and none of them were Avery's -

"Exactly," she cut me off. "You're wasting your time. Just like he has." She muttered the last part beneath her breath. "You'll help my men get to the bottom of this godforsaken place, you hear me? That treasure's at the heart of this cathedral, if it's anywhere. I can't imagine another spot."

Readying for a fight, I opened my mouth to state my case when the door opened. A freezing draft blew in, stealing my words from my throat in a shudder. I'd hoped I might become more accustomed to the climate but apparently I had a thinner skin than I liked. Even with the winter gear Rafe and Nadine had provided for me and Shelly, the cold needled its way through to chill us to the bone.

In stepped another Shoreline senior. He was clad in a white coat and camouflage and when he spoke an accent played with his words.

"Anything noteworthy by the dormitories?" she asked him, shutting down our conversation and returning the camera back into my hands.

"Not unless you count some cleverly worded headstones."

Without a glance my way, she nodded at Shelly. "Please entertain your friend. Her nagging is driving me up the wall."

Shelly sputtered at the offense. "Excuse me -

I shook my head at her, noticing the sharp angles molding Nadine's shoulders.

As I took my place beside her, I shrugged when she looked to me for an explanation. "Pressed for time I guess," I whispered. Who knew how long Rafe planned on waiting for a result. "Shit that's cold," I hissed, jumping away from the wall as if I'd been shocked.

"Yeah, and apparently I'm a nag for not wanting to become a Popsicle," she hissed back. "You seem to be doing well though, miss historian. Good for you," she smiled happily. "I don't really understand what's going on and I really need a shower but it seems like you're getting somewhere."

A flush of pride tinged my cheeks. "I've not done much, really. She's the impressive one."

Nadine could be rough but she meant well. She was also brilliant and headstrong. A natural leader.

The Shoreline leader braced both her arms on the coffin's surface, staring placidly at her map. "Have you finished digging by the chapter-house?"

"We have, ma'am. The northwest sites are open as well."

Nadine dragged her finger along the map. "And what about the southern perimeter?"

"Not yet. It'd take us a day to move the crane over there."

The door opened again with a creak, causing Shelly to flatten herself against the wall from the gust of cold air as if she thought the room might implode. I stifled a laugh and peered around her, only to freeze.

Rafe passed us by, oblivious to anything but Nadine. His gaze was lidded, his jaw set and an air of thinly veiled control sparked about his person. My fingers tightened instinctively around my notebook. Something akin to anger rolled off of him in waves; it suffocated the entire room.

"Nadine."

She raised a hand to silence him. "Make it happen," she told her employee. "In the meantime see what you can dig without it."

"I'll send a couple of men right away," the mercenary replied.

Lips pursed, Rafe set to pacing the room. His hands were behind his back, fingers twitching in their gloves as he waited to speak.

"Good," Nadine said.

Shelly slid close to me and said into my ear, "He kinda scares me."

Sure, Rafe was...intense, for lack of a better word.

During my missions with other Shoreline members, I'd stumbled across him a few times. Usually he was cooped up in a private chamber or sitting alone in a pew. Reading through documents. Somehow, he always knew when I was there.

"How goes things?" he'd ask, a shred of hope in his voice.

He confused me. I didn't know who he was - a treasure hunter whose dreams were just out of reach, or a bitter, cruel man who had no issue striking down those who displeased him. It didn't help that Nadine ranted about his treatment of her men often, further coloring my perception of him.

That didn't stop me from excitedly rambling to him about whatever it was I happened to find, insignificant as they were. Thinking back, I'd sounded so stupidly naive.

And yet he'd listened to me. Had seemed interested in what I had to say. I sighed. Well, of course he would. The guy was grasping at straws at this point. Any information could help him.

"I can't read him," I murmured.

"Rafe, any luck with those manuscripts?" Nadine addressed him.

He paused to look at her. "Can we have a minute?"

Yikes, he sounded on edge. I glanced toward the door, wondering if we should skedaddle on out for a moment. But Nadine didn't say anything to us. Rather, she looked meaningfully at her employee.

"Keep me updated."

"Yes, ma'am."

The door closed behind the Shoreline mercenary with a resounding clack, trapping me and Shelly in a room spiking with mounting crests of anxiety. Coming from Rafe. He turned his back to Nadine, glancing up at the ceiling and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Nadine situated herself atop the coffin's lid, her tone bright with pleasure. "Did you hear? They found a whole annexed area under the cathedral." She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.

"I did. Have you seen it?"

"No. Why?"

Rafe clicked his tongue. "Because there wasn't much left...after they'd finished, 'finding' it." He slowly stepped toward her.

Nadine exhaled. "My men have been a bit liberal with the dynamite -

"They're like a hundred well-armed bulls in a china shop."

"But they've made more progress in two days than we have in months."

He sucked his teeth, the timbre of his voice dipping low. "Progress?" He planted his hands on the stone lid, leaning into her personal space. "I can't analyze rubble."

Nadine's gaze shifted uncomfortably and she smiled to hide it. I saw Shelly in her at that moment, donning a mask of civility to protect herself from angering a man who couldn't handle a rejection from her.

"Okay…" she said through a smile, sliding off the stone to put distance between them.

Shelly grabbed my wrist and pulled me down with her behind one of the many storage boxes in the room. Her pulse thundered in her fingers.

I glanced at the door again. Even if we took the few steps toward it, we'd still have to open the damn thing. A strange flutter of panic trilled in my chest. If Nadine hadn't sent us out, either she'd completely forgotten we were here or she didn't care. Or...my blood chilled. No, he wasn't violent. _Was he? _

Suddenly uncertain, I guided Shelly over against the back of the storage box and carefully peeked around the edge. Nadine had been trained in combat. Was Rafe?

"Thank you," he told her, reaching for one of the photos I'd snapped. He frowned in confusion, clearly having not seen them before. Slowly, his gaze roved around the room. And landed on me, crouched behind a storage box watching everything with wide, nervous eyes.

His mouth parted slightly, momentarily shocked to find me there.

"I'll let them know to give you a heads up before they do anything drastic," Nadine continued. "As for that woman - Elizabeth, I think it was, I'll have her head down with them to scope the place out just beforehand. She's been a huge help in collecting data. We'll see what else we can do with her."

My breath caught as he turned around to face her, a vein throbbing in his neck.

His voice rose. "Or you can tell them to sit tight until I analyze the few clues that haven't been blown up."

Ah, so he was worried about the same exact thing as I was. Still, I didn't appreciate how he was lording his presence over her like he thought he could make her do as he wanted. Out of defiance, I got to my feet and openly observed their argument.

"No, we can't sit around waiting any longer," Nadine said.

"All due respect, I think I have a bit more experience with this sort of thing than you do."

Lines etched into her forehead. "We tried things your way."

"Bullshit. You've been trying to level this place ever since we got here."

"No," she scoffed, pointing up into the distance. "I wanted to steal that cross long before it ever made it to that auction."

Rafe held his palms together as he tried to explain. "The auction was the cleanest way to get the cross."

She rounded on him, rage shaping her features. "But instead of going with my gut, I listened to you. And now we have competition."

"Well, I didn't think he'd show up."

He? My thoughts raced at lightning speed, thinking back to all that had happened. To the auction shoot out. To my conversation with Nadine about Nathan Drake. Did they personally know each other?

Leaning back to see his face better, Nadine softly said, "Or maybe you wanted to draw him out."

He scoffed, nervous laughter bubbling from his throat. "Why - why the hell would I do that?"

"Because you think you need him. And maybe you do."

It was like she'd slapped him clear across the face. His expression shuttered closed, but not before a flash of hurt blazed across. Rafe gazed off into the distance at something I couldn't see.

"Point is, I'm done trying to do things the clean way. If the treasure is here, we'll find it. And if not, well...maybe it's time to move on, huh?"

Rafe blinked several times at her, looking as if he was trying not to crumple into a mess. Like she'd thrust a fist into his chest and had ripped his beating heart right out, squeezing tight.

"Hey," she murmured, smiling sweetly. She closed the distance between them and gently placed one hand on his jaw. "It's not personal."

"Of course," he said hoarsely.

"I'll let you know if anything turns up." She gracefully left the room, leaving Rafe to stand numbly at the coffin, struggling to collect himself.

He picked up another one of my photographs, barely seeming to register it, before he swept them all onto the ground. His fists hit the stone with a dull thump as he hunched over it.

I knew should follow Nadine. But I lingered. Here was my chance in the form of a broken, shattered man. We wanted the same thing. I could help him just as he'd helped me. Even if he was kind of an asshole, a part of me still longed to repay him somehow. After those days doing as Nadine had instructed, I'd gathered enough information to know that my theory was more possible than before.

"You can go ahead if you want," I told Shelly, leaning down to check on her. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Was worried it might get bad but we know who wears the pants now. See you outside," She got up, looking relieved to exit the room. The door scraped open loudly, but Rafe didn't budge from his spot.

Oh boy, I thought. Both he and the Shoreline's leader had a temper. Their relationship was both fitting and toxic all at once and I hoped it hadn't gotten violent in the past.

Giving myself a mental shake, I opened my notebook and approached him. "I didn't mean to overhear."

He nodded.

"If it's any consolation, I may have something that might interest you."

Rafe didn't react immediately. He slowly straightened, cracking his neck to release the tension. A five o'clock shadow studded his jawline, darkening his features and drawing attention to the gaunt hollows beneath his eyes. The piercing blue of his gaze settled on me, almost unnerving.

"I understand that Nadine doesn't want me in the dormitories when we're so close to the bottom...but I'm confident there's something there."

"We've turned up every grave on that hunk of land."

I scratched my arm. "Just the graves? The caskets?"

His gaze narrowed, trying to read me.

"Look here. See this headstone?"

Rafe leaned forward to read my notes. "Benjamin Bridgeman. Ah, I remember this. Avery's alias."

With a small knowing smile, I tapped the drawing. "And?"

"And there was nothing there."

I shook my head, showing him my phone. "Notice anything different?"

At first I was just going to spill everything to him, but the rush I felt seeing him piece it together was too much. It made me feel invaluable, like he'd been right to add me to his team. Even if I was wrong, this would be one of many future stepping stones to cross. The riverbank was waiting for me to hop onto its shores.

Rafe decided to amuse me, despite the obvious annoyance writ large on his face. "That's the headstone, same as your sketch. Same name, lettering, engravings…" He grasped my wrist, pulling me closer to him to stare at the screen. Surprise had him widening his eyes. "The skull. It's facing a different direction."

"Yes," I nodded eagerly. "I have no idea if this is how the skull is positioned down there, but everywhere I've searched online shows his sigil like this. A skull facing sideways. Not forward."

He glanced at me, all the tension from earlier washed away. Replaced with eagerness. "I'd thought something was odd about it. Do you see how it's cut from a different kind of stone? It doesn't fit with the rest of it. At first I assumed they'd had to replace the skull but…"

I could still be wrong about all of this. However, this instance proved to him I had what it took. I watched that realization bloom in his gaze as he looked at me.

"How about you show me this headstone?" I asked him.

"With pleasure."


	7. Chapter 7

Rafe wasted no time hounding a couple of Shoreline mercenaries to ferry us to the dormitories. I scowled at him as he heaved an annoyed sigh beside me in the backseat of the jeep, muttering how no one could do anything right around here. Starting a fight with him over his attitude would be unproductive, I reminded myself. Unfortunately, he was already in a foul mood, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation.

"Everyone's radios magically stopped working?" he shook his head as the mercenary at the wheel explained the situation. "Unbelievable."

"It's not implausible, given the winds," I reasoned, trying to smooth over any rough edges he might latch onto. As if to prove my point, a strong gust lashed out, ripping through my hair and sending it flying in tangled knots behind me.

"They worked perfectly fine this whole time," he argued back.

_Don't let him bait you. _Biting my lower lip, I dared a peek at his profile. Jaw set, arms crossed and a pair of shades reflecting the flames of the setting sun rested on the bridge of a sharp, straight nose. His agitated huffs vibrated through me like the timer ticking down to the final _kaboom. _

Mentioning Nadine's suspicions of Nathan Drake somehow sabotaging the operation didn't seem a wise thing to do. He more than likely had already considered it, if his argument with her was any indication.

"Can you drive any slower or do I need to fire you? Floor it, goddammit."

"Y-yes, boss-sir."

Slaving away fifteen years of your life with nothing to show for it would be frustrating for anyone. Lord knew I'd wasted at least half of that time studying to get into the fashion industry with paltry results. So then why would a man like Rafe Adler subject himself to this torture? Why not hire actual professionals? He clearly had the money for it.

I couldn't help but think there was more to this.

A sickening feeling curdled in my stomach. There'd been stories about Nathan Drake, nasty ones. About how he'd killed several thousands of men who'd paid the necessary funds to conduct their operations — and how he'd paid for squat. About how he was banned from entering certain countries now thanks to the wake of devastation he'd left behind. At first I'd disregarded them all as slanderous rumors. I'd idolized the man for years, how could I bring myself to think he might not be a good role model?

Seeing Rafe and his team laboriously dedicate all of their time and effort into this treasure hunt struck me anew with clarity. Hearing countless tales about some guy barging into existing expeditions to then steal all of the glory and fame for himself - well, I'd imagine anyone would be pissed, insecure about their own capabilities and rattled to the core.

And if Rafe and Nathan did in fact know each other, that would be like grinding salt into an open wound.

"I knew this place was rundown but it's more than I expected," I tried to change the subject, glancing around the scenery of jutting stone walls and watery paths of gravel plunging over sheer drops.

Unfolded on my lap was a blueprint of the dormitories. Our current route took us around the perimeter of the area, cresting its side and skirting wide births around what should have been a clear drive up to the main gate. Instead, we'd been forced to take a road parallel to the gaping chasm separating us from the dormitories. Glancing down at the empty space below us from my seat sent a flutter through me.

"How did you guys find your way around here?"

The mercenaries glanced at one another, then warily at Rafe through the rear view mirror. He didn't bother to acknowledge them, and tentatively, the man in the passenger seat began to talk.

"Wasn't easy. Everything's falling to pieces so we had to create a path. Some weren't so lucky," he pointed down below to a branch sticking out of a cliff side. I barely caught a glimpse of the rope dangling from its length as we drove by. Directly below yawned nothing but empty air.

I shuddered, glancing up to where the dormitories lay across the chasm on a flat precipice of land, snow shining like gold in the light.

"Are we gonna _Tarzan _on over there?" I asked, hating the warble in my tone.

Rafe spoke up, his shades catching the rays like a sea of flame. "We built a makeshift bridge down to the main gate. Here," he leaned over to grab the blueprint from me, his breath warming my neck. Goose flesh puckered down my skin and I became aware of the sensation of something dangerous lurking somewhere in him. Just as I had in the dark hallway of _Il Bucco. _

To my dismay, I didn't dislike it - not entirely.

"We're already nearly there," I exclaimed, stunned.

I could see why Nadine was so adamant on me staying behind to work at the cathedral though: we were nearly to the heart of the place and the dormitories were on a separate piece of land. The camera she'd lent me could barely pick up anything more than the vague shape of the place and it was only thanks to my previous internet sleuthing that Rafe had decided I might have something worth looking into after all. Even if the drive hadn't been too long, she'd made it clear that she was done with the job if they turned up empty-handed after she'd blown the place to dust.

Which meant that I was, quite literally, Rafe's last resort.

* * *

When we came to a stop, the mercenaries immediately took off down the makeshift bridge. And indeed was it makeshift. I stared open-mouthed as the men made their way across three large, long slabs of wood reaching across the chasm to the dormitories. Their footsteps sent piles of snow falling off the edges and the wood rattled with a terrifying rickety sound.

"You weren't kidding," I breathed, hoping that the wood would hold.

"It's held up for a while," he explained, though I caught the slight catch in his voice. Some people hadn't been so lucky, it appeared. They must have recently replaced this 'bridge.'

Stepping outside and readying myself for the walk across the plank, a hand clapped down onto my shoulder. Halting me.

"A moment, if you would."

I glanced up to see Rafe staring down at me, his gaze concealed entirely by his shades. His gloved fingers curled into my thick winter coat. The Shoreline members knocked a few times on the gate, and when no one answered, they began to lift the heavy contraption by themselves.

"I meant to return your sketchpad to you the night you dropped it."

Wow, he was apologizing? That was progress. I nodded, but folded my arms and turned around to look him square in the face. I needed my questions answered.

"Why didn't you, then? My contact info was right on the first page."

"I should have." He leaned forward, removing his shades to reveal a gaze like chips of ice. Letting me see whether he was lying or not. "Then I saw what was inside. You connected all the dots leading to the Saint Dismas cross, even figured out that it could lead to a treasure beyond a historian's wildest dreams. How was I supposed to let you walk away? As if it couldn't get any better, your ticket for the auction I was going to was taped right on the back page." His unspoken words hung in thick in the air, raising the hair on the back of my neck at his implication.

I'd heard men spout lines of fate and destiny before - a huge red flag. But with Rafe, it was clear he didn't intend to stake that flag through a notch in his belt after nailing someone. No, that flag was meant to stake his claim over the treasure he found. I could practically read his intent in his eyes. My toes curled, relishing in his ambitious nature. I liked it.

"So that's why you added me and Shelly to your little party? Why didn't you just call me that night and ask to talk things over? "

The ticket collector had told Shelly that Mr. Adler had added us to the guest list; we'd even been refunded in full for the tickets the estate had 'forgotten' to mail out to us.

"And miss watching you two girls sneak into the place? Where's the fun in that?"

The nerve of this man!

"Glad you were entertained," I deadpanned.

"Very much. My favorite part was when you told Rogers off."

My jaw practically unhinged and fell to the ground. I'd seen him exiting the room only after Rogers had implied that Rafe had somehow paid for me to get into the auction. Never did I stop to think he may have been eavesdropping, maybe even waiting for a chance to talk to me. _No, don't let him get away scott free! _I told myself, shutting my mouth closed.

It was an effort to keep my words from quaking. "When I ran into you at the bar again, you acted like we were strangers."

"I'd say we were very much strangers," he practically purred, his voice dipping low into a pleasant rumble.

"Don't play semantics with me," I snapped. "That was creepy."

His gaze narrowed, shifting over my face. "Quizzing you on everything you know of Mr. Avery would be a little creepier when that's supposed to be some secret hobby of yours, am I wrong?"

I bristled, torn between anger and depraved delight at the spark he saw within me. "You went about this the wrong way."

He hissed air between his teeth, nodding. "You're not wrong," he finally conceded, removing his hand from my shoulder. "I'm sorry for the way I acted."

"Apology accepted," I allowed after a thorough study of the man. He seemed genuine, albeit desperate, too. Right. It's not like I was innocent in this debacle either. I'd agreed to try out this job despite my reservations about his character, after all. Were I being honest with myself, I also secretly liked the dangerous allure of this entire thing.

_What the hell is wrong with me? _

A loud holler sounded, stopping me from thinking too hard about my questionable decisions. The mercenaries had successfully opened the gate and were waiting for us to advance. Trying not to dwell on how there was a chance the wood could decide to snap on us, I cleared the space quickly and let out a sigh of relief when my boots touched solid ground on the other side.

"Afraid of heights?" Rafe mused, taking his time to meet me.

"Alright, show off," I rolled my eyes at him. "Just show me where Mr. Benjamin's resting place is."

His lips quirked up to the side. "You heard the lady." The mercenaries snapped to attention as Rafe passed a cursory glance over them. "After you."

I hurried on past them and into the dormitories, boots kicking up clods of dirt sprinkled with snow. The sun hovered above the horizon's edge, igniting orange rays over the snow-flecked earth, while a peaty scent cloyed thick in the air. I squinted, struggling against the burn of tears in the harsh light. I'd become too accustomed to the dark these past few days. I didn't want to imagine how badly I needed a shower.

My feet stumbled over crumbling stone steps as I started down a staircase, only to pause at the lip. The rest of it had disintegrated into piles several feet below me. The entire place was falling apart, leftover remains dangling like unfinished projects above me with dead ends at every turn. The cathedral's face beamed at my back as the sun lit its shattered glass aglow, painting us all in shades of blue and red. Snares of ivy embraced its rotting exterior like the weight of sin pulling it down, pinning the wings of every stone angel decorating its perimeter. I could only imagine how breathtaking it must have been in its prime, but there was an evocative beauty to rundown relics all the same.

Almost instantly, a feeling of utter wrongness shot through me. I spun around to see Rafe glaring around the area around us, assessing.

"Didn't Nadine station a patrol here?" I asked him. It was too quiet, too empty. As if the only occupants in this place lay beneath the ground. A dry breeze drifted past, rustling the tall grasses below. Nadine had said a good twenty or so men were guarding the dormitories, though for what reason, I had no idea.

"Scope out the place," Rafe told his men. "This way," he told me, leaping down below to another landing. He turned away to saunter on ahead and I guffawed, standing at the precipice of what could crack my skull open. Gritting my teeth, I sat down on the edge and began to carefully slide over the ledge, sweating profusely as I did so. _Thanks for helping, _I thought to myself.

There was a loud, exasperated sigh before Rafe drawled, "You're not exactly impressing me here."

"Excuse me for not wanting to break my legs!" I snapped, gasping as I suddenly lost my hold. My eyes shut closed as the world rushed to meet me. To my surprise, I didn't smack into the ground and fall apart into a million pieces. Rather, a rough pair of hands bit into my rib cage seconds before my feet slowly met the ground.

Opening my eyes, I blinked, stunned at his brute strength. Though he wasn't much taller than myself, there was much more to him than I'd initially given him credit for. I'd expected some guy like him wouldn't bother with working out.

Scraping back my hair, I shoved away from him. "Would it hurt to be a little more considerate?" The unsettling atmosphere had me buzzing with adrenaline as the mercenaries sank into the tall grasses, weapons at the ready.

"The world isn't considerate, darling."

"Sure, asshole."

Rafe snorted, his gaze flicking about the place before he bent down to whisper into my ear. "I lead, you follow."

I almost combusted into an angry inferno at that, until I noticed the tension hiking his shoulders up to his chin. Something was horribly off.

Nervously glancing around, I quietly trailed after him. His strides were languid, his movements akin to a predator on the prowl through his territory. Long fingers slipped into the holster at his side, expertly withdrawing a glock.

I didn't have anything with which to defend myself. Eyes growing wide in alarm, I quickened my pace until I was almost pressed against him.

White teeth flashed as Rafe hissed, "Spread out."

The two men obeyed, fanning out into the tall grasses. Rafe slipped into a crouch and disappeared into the grass ahead of me and I hastened after him. The dry stalks obscured my vision, whipping across my face as they swayed after Rafe pushed through them. I was starting to see why Nadine struggled to deal with him. Just as I broke through the patch of grass, my knuckles grazed against something solid and warm. Frowning, I looked down and nearly screamed.

A man lay face down in the grass, his neck bent at an odd angle. I didn't need a closer look to know that he was dead. Instinctively, I reached out blindly and curled my fingers into Rafe's jacket, tugging him back with a distressed noise.

"Nadine's going to be pissed," he murmured, staring down at the uniformed man. "Goddammit, the other guy has my radio."

"My signal's dead," I said, holding out my cell. "And I'm pretty sure the radios are still out of commission too."

His lips drew into a thin line. Yet oddly, his eyes brightened as if with anticipation. "Come on." He snagged my wrist and rose to his full height, pulling me with him through the graveyard in plain sight.

I almost fought against him, afraid whoever had killed this man was still here. But it was clear they were long gone. The mercenaries were searching the place out of cover, puzzling over the corpses they continued to discover and pile up for inspection later.

Inexplicably, I thought of Nathan Drake. No that's silly, I chastised myself. Why would he be here? I mean yeah, pirate treasure was pretty tempting but wasn't he retired or something? That's what I'd heard of him, anyway.

"Son of a bitch," Rafe laughed, stopping in front of a huge gravestone. One with a pair of crossed cutlasses raised over a skull. Exactly as I'd copied into my notes. Engraved beneath a covering of snow was Henry Avery's alias: Benjamin Bridgeman. It looked as if someone had scrubbed some of the snow off.

With one hand still holding my wrist, Rafe raised his other with the gun still clutched in his grip. He shook his head as if with disbelief and clacked the barrel of his weapon against the stone skull's side. "Oh, I'm so disappointed in myself. Lesson learned. Someone had no qualms with turning this little boy around." Letting go of me, he swaggered around the headstone to plant his hands on his hips. "I knew I had a good feeling about our partnership."

I was already busy with running my hands all over the skull, fighting the temptation to turn it around to where it had been wrongly facing, when Rafe came back to lean against the stone and stare at me, a forearm resting against the side of the stone. A lazy smile curled his lips. Hesitantly, I paused in my excited search to explore every nook and cranny of the headstone. It was scary to think there were dead men lying around the dormitories and I wanted to distract myself from this grim reality with anything I could. Or else it would get to me.

_Worry about that later _, I told myself. _You knew this wouldn't be a walk in the park. _

My face must've been easy to read, for Rafe straightened and swept out an arm. Like he was presenting something to me to abate the mounting anxiety within my chest. "You've earned your keep for the day, I'd say."

Peeking over his arm, my eyes bugged. "Holy shit," I croaked. A set of stairs disappeared deep into the ground.

With a satisfied smile, he called for his men to gather around. "Give me my radio back. I didn't give you permission to take it. Next time your contract is terminated, you hear? Keep a lookout for us. After you, Liz."

I swallowed the words I wanted to spit at him and saved it for after he followed me down into Dante's Inferno, recalling how he'd gone utterly still when Nadine had criticized him in front of his men earlier. How it had done nothing but allowed bitterness to fester within him until he took it out on everyone. Perhaps a different approach was in order.

"You should treat your employees with more respect," I said, taking the steps two at a time. When the last staircase opened into a dark, gloomy room, I used my cell as a flashlight and started. Rows upon rows of little alcoves in the walls revealed coffins shaped like bodies. Not to my taste. "Looks like a crypt," I said, walking deeper into it.

But Rafe was too caught up in defending himself to comment. "Respect isn't handed out to people like food stamps."

Food stamps? Jesus Christ. I sucked in a furious breath and charged ahead.

"What? Do you honestly believe throwing out respect to everyone is a good idea? People will start to think themselves superior -

"Just be quiet," I snapped, fixing him with a glare. "You clearly have an inflated ego so maybe you should listen to others for a change and not act like you're better than everyone else."

The skin beneath his eyes crinkled with fine lines. "I didn't set out to hire two Nadines, but I suppose two is better than one. If you could fight like her too that'd be great."

I spun around before I lost it. He was insufferable. Behind me, Rafe continued to try and explain how respect should be given to a select few people, based off whatever he deemed worthy, while I plunged ahead of him.

The crypts were dusty and dank and damp, freezing cold too. It also didn't help that his voice echoed throughout the place like a microphone, sending me closer to the breaking point.

"...and that's not how you run a business. Which is why they can't hack it - Oh, horseshit."

Stretching up before us was a wall decorated with three statues of men on crosses. Pathways spread out on either side of it, only drawing more attention to the gaudy display. My nose scrunched with displeasure at the swaths of cobwebs clinging to their bases and the mist swimming like phantoms around our ankles. Someone really needed to clean this place out. Rafe eagerly shot forward, slamming his palms into the stone to stare up at the one on the left.

"Saint Dismas, my penitent boy. It's been a while." He chuckled, rapping his gun against the statues as he identified them by name. "Jesus Christ, pun intended." Rafe winked at me and I crossed my arms over my chest, unamused. "And the unlucky bastard, Gestas. Strung him up by the balls, didn't they?"

"Jerk Thief," I said, pinning him with a meaningful look.

"Very funny," he said, holstering his gun.

Stepping around him, I contemplated the importance of the statues. "Avery sure was fixated on Dismas."

To my surprise, Rafe folded into a study of serious reflection, clasping his hands neatly behind him as he came up beside me to marvel at the statues. "Hmph. Fancied himself a hero, didn't he? One who plundered and murdered only the non-British heathens. Though I suppose only true men of success learn to throw away petty notions of conscience."

I was so taken aback by his observation that I laughed, ignoring his last part. "Yeah, I guess that's what passed for heroic then. Which makes him the 'Good Thief.'"

Rafe met my gaze, the hint of a true smile meeting his eyes. My own smile twitched at the realization that we were getting along in a moment of nerd-bonding. A glint of joy shone in his teeth-or maybe that was just his crazy wealth shining in his pearly whites.

"You know your stuff," I complimented him.

I'd expected him to bask in the praise like a snake sunning its scales, but to my surprise, his mouth parted and he seemed to freeze to the spot. With a derisive snort, he attempted to recover. "What kind of businessman would I be if I didn't know what I was getting into, huh? The investments would be in the gutter by now if Nadine had taken over."

"Rafe," I started, awkwardly stumbling over his name. Should I address as Mr. Adler? He glanced up at me with interest, nothing within his gaze to suggest discontent at using his first name. "Do you know Nathan Drake?"

_Why did you ask him? _I mentally screamed at myself. Nadine had warned me not to. Yet here I was, sticking my hand into the viper's pit.

Smacking his lips together, he turned his head to stare up at Gestas. "Let's just say that little Nate and I are no longer on the best of terms." A sheen of emotion frosted over his gaze. "But revenge is for children. All I want is some goddamn acknowledgement."

"Revenge?" I repeated, dumbfounded.

"That's another story for another day. Time is money, after all. Now, impress me with your little brain of yours."

I was inclined to retort, but the hurt in his expression still lingered and a muscle ticked in his jaw. What had happened between them? Shaking my head as if to clear away my thoughts, I stepped closer to the statues, noticing the odd inclusion of what appeared to be a peephole embedded into the base of the statue. Encased in a bronze sphere and decorated with looping scrawls, it caught the light of my phone.

Pressing forward to take a look, I stiffened. Straight ahead of me was a stained glass window the color of a deep blue sea. Beams of light shone into the murky shadows like the rays of the sun, highlighting everything in brilliant cerulean. Without so much as an explanation, I took off at a run around the corner of the wall, sprinting straight for the glass.

"Where are you going? Hey -

The glass had been divided thanks to opulent pieces of metal, and three circles stuck out like a sore thumb on its surface. It was smooth and cold beneath my fingertips. Within the center one glowed the brightest beacon of light, drawing me like a bear to a honeycomb. I was too busy marveling at it all to notice Rafe brush against me, his breath leaving his lungs in an exhalation of pure shock.

"Look at this!" I excitedly waved him over.

"Those are the crosses we searched," he said, voice catching as if with bewilderment.

We were looking through a window of sorts, and in that window was the beginnings of a map. Faint lines circled around the crosses, tethers connecting them to each other. All except for one smack dab in the middle.

"Is that a cave?" I asked, moving aside to let him look.

Rafe's breath fogged over the glass, misting hot over my cheek. "Goddammit! You don't take from me. This isn't yours," he hissed.

"The body was still somewhat warm. Whoever they were, they can't have been gone too long." According to several crime dramas I'd binged in the past, a corpse didn't immediately become cold. If they were factually correct, it took around twelve hours for all traces of warmth to have left the body. Meaning whoever had killed the men had done so this very day. "You don't think that's why the radios weren't working, do you?" I voiced aloud my suspicions.

"All of our patrols have lost contact."

All of them? The revelation hit me like a punch to the gut. "There wasn't a bullet wound, not that I could see. They knew not to alert anyone." Which pointed to a distinct familiarity to Rafe's methodology. Shaking my head as it to clear my racing thoughts, I leaned my weight onto the glass map. Could the famed treasure hunter truly be a murderer?

Just as Rafe inhaled sharply through his nostrils, the radio in his pocket hissed. He fumbled to withdraw it, a vein in his neck throbbing.

"Rafe. Rafe come in," Nadine's voice blared. She sounded on edge.

"It works?" I asked, stunned. Both of glanced at each other, our suspicions confirmed. It wasn't the wind's fault after all.

Pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, he took another deep breath before answering. "I'm at the graveyard." I wondered if he'd said the obvious just to piss her off for everything going wrong. "Nadine, he was here."

"Yeah, I'm looking at him right now."

A chill swept through me. Holy shit, _the_ Nathan Drake was here?! But just as quickly as my excitement had come, it evaporated in a puff as my contractor's hand convulsed around the object.

"What?" He sounded absolutely furious. "Where are you?" He turned around, heading back the way we'd come.

"Come back to the cathedral. Follow the holes."

Glancing over a shoulder to make sure I was behind him, he said, "I'm on my way. And for God's sake don't shoot him yet."

I could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "Might want to hurry then."

"Get the car ready!" he bellowed from the stairs, racing like a bull out of the pen. "Come on, let's get this rolling!"

Scrambling to keep up, I let Rafe pull me up to the top of the stair well after he'd climbed over the edge. His grip was strong, made fiercer with tension in his hold. The four of us scrambled out of the gate, clouds of air pouring from our open mouths. The radio buzzed to life again and Rafe made to answer it, only to be cut off by an alarmed voice.

"Shelly-what the hell are you doing? Get back here!"

"The waiter!" She was saying, voice growing faint.

"Don't-

The radio clicked off.

A spurt of energy hit me like a bolt of lightning and I charged for the jeep, boots pounding over the wooden slabs with Rafe at my heels. I didn't know what was happening but it didn't sound good. I didn't allow myself a second to consider what I was doing. I pelted ahead of the mercenaries and threw open the driver's door, sliding in to strap the seat belt on with a sharp click.

The keys were still in the ignition and I turned them with a hard flick of my wrist. "Get in!" I cried, revving the engine loudly.

Rafe slid into the passenger seat and the mercenaries jumped into the back right as I slammed on the gas and put the vehicle into reverse. Shelly was in danger. I'd left her all alone there. I stomped on the gas so hard I thought I broke my foot.


	8. Chapter 8

We followed the holes exactly as instructed and avoided the cave-in that forced Nadine and some of her men to seek an alternative route to cut off Nathan's escape. The air became shallower the higher we climbed. Wrung my windpipe tight the faster we pushed ourselves.

The entire place rumbled like a beast waking from its slumber, forcing us to slant to the side to keep our balance. Smatterings of bullets, the boom of dynamite sticks surrendering to flame and mayhem-all of it roared ahead of us. As if the madness was moving up from the depths and out into the open, I thought. And like fools, we were rushing to catch up to it.

The radio hissed at Rafe's hip; a cacophony of sound nearly drowned out the Shoreline's leader's voice, and she coughed dustily in the background. "Get to the Southwest site! They took Shelly so it's a tossup whether or not someone shoots her."

He unhooked it from his belt loop with a curse. "You better make sure my insurance doesn't get riddled with holes."

"No promises, dear," she grunted, a round of bullets echoing so close it nearly swallowed her reply.

Insurance? I seethed, glaring a hole through the back of his head. To be fair, Shelly was the only reason I agreed to give this a chance in the first place. Her encouragement gave me hope for a different future. But to a cantankerous businessman like Rafe Adler, Shelly might as well be only a key to opening a locked door. If she got hurt, I would gladly slam a heavy set of deadbolts over it.

He led us up another twisting passage and into an area dotted with crates, halogen work lights and several still, lifeless bodies. Pools of red stained the stone beneath them, lancing fear through me.

Some lay by the entrance leading further into the tunnel, others were sprawled in the shadows near the equipment as though they'd tried to take cover. Judging by their gear, it was clear they had been mapping out the area. Until the ground beneath their very feet had given way. Peering over the edge revealed chunks of stone, defaced pillars and clouds of smoke. I couldn't begin to make out how far down the devastation continued.

Rafe didn't remark on the obvious. He simply holstered his gun and snatched an assault rifle off the ground by one of the fallen men. A fleeting hint of regret rippled across his features, only to be replaced by fury.

"With me!"

I instinctively grabbed a handgun off a crate with trembling fingers. Today was the first day I'd ever seen a body. Now I was looking at more than I could count as I chased after him and the mercenaries.

I'd tried to conceal my worries beneath a veneer of calm. Had tried to forget the Rossi Estate's shootout in order to focus on a job I'd always dreamed of doing. How stupid could I get? I'd known all along how dangerous this was. Maybe some sick part of me had always wanted this. Like layers of moth eaten silk, my composure started to fray.

Debris rained down overhead as we emerged from the tunnels. Out into open air and snow and total, unnerving silence.

Rafe pushed through a windowless cutout into a work area, neck craning in his search for his quarry. Blood splattered corpses, discarded weapons and destroyed ramps were all we could see, scattered about like an afterthought. A black smudge soiled the base of a bullet-studded marble angel, red splinters from a leftover TNT barrel like shrapnel dotting the once sacred premises.

"Goddammit," one of the mercenaries said, rolling a body over with the toe of his boot. A scarlet bandanna covered the man's head, eyes glassy and unseeing.

My stomach curdled.

"Nate's worse than a bull in a china shop," Rafe muttered. I bristled. Hadn't he referred to his own employees as such? Catching my disgusted frown, he lifted his hand to touch the marble angel. A crack spread from the very place his gloved fingers touched, crawling like ice over it until a tiny fleck chipped off and onto his boot.

With a gasp, I threw myself at him, sending him toppling into the snow just as the marble shattered into separate hunks where he'd been standing.

Dusting himself off, he gave me a curt nod. "We're wasting time."

Straight past his shoulder, I glimpsed the slumped form of a Shoreline mercenary over a turret. Thin rivers of his blood dripped down the metal contraption.

Moving past the southwest site brought me up short. Because directly above us soared towering stone cliffs leading up to a construction area. A bright yellow crawler crane dangled its hook into the air like bait. Even more bodies littered the place. How could someone become so numb to killing? No, scratch that. How could one man accomplish all of this in a desperate attempt to get out of a place he didn't know? And with Shelly to boot!

"They cleared the west site," Nadine yelled through her radio.

"Then cut them off," he countered. "We're coming."

In between mapping out tunnels, I'd successfully memorized most of the cathedral's layout thanks to the blueprints. I'd even discussed at length every nook and cranny I could get Nadine to divulge without her growing impatient with what she thought was relaying unnecessary information. She'd been everywhere, of course it was redundant to her. Considering the large gaps between some of the cathedral's grounds, there would be some mad parkour going on. My grip tightened on the gun. I'd only slow them down.

But Nathan had an escape plan in mind somewhere at the end of this. There was no way he'd just waltzed in here without one. Which meant he knew the area well enough to navigate his way around however many mercenaries Nadine had deployed. How could he be so familiar with this place?

A thundering sound shook the skies, interrupting my thoughts. Zooming overhead was a plane. So that's what Nathan had planned.

Rafe immediately contacted Nadine. "Fire at that plane and don't stop until it's down!"

Out of my periphery, something long and thin shot into the air and snagged onto the crane's hook.

"Here," the mercenary holding onto the other end said, holding out the rope to me.

Giving myself no chance to back out, I tugged hard on the end, ensuring it's attachment to the crane was secure. Then I took off at a run, curling myself around it like it was a life line. Air whooshed past me and a cavernous bottom dropped beneath me, promising a quick death. In seconds, the rocky outcropping ahead was under my legs and I released my grip on the rope. I unceremoniously tumbled into a broken heap of what had once been wooden crates filled with extra supplies.

In seconds, Rafe and his men caught up and I struggled to breath evenly. Adrenaline blazed like gasoline through my veins, catching fire the further I pushed myself. Roared into an inferno as the seconds ticked by.

Rafe didn't baby me; he went at his own pace, leaving me to scale to the top myself. Unskilled and unpracticed as I was, I would only slow him down. Still, one of the mercenaries lingered behind to offer a helping hand whenever I missed a jump and almost fell into an early grave. He ran ahead and leaped down over a huge hole in the floor and I followed suit, crumpling into a mess at the bottom.

"Oh my god," I cried at the pain shooting up my legs. Panting, I pushed myself to my feet and nearly groaned at the sight ahead. The ground went from hard concrete into slopes of gravel. "I can keep going," I said when Rafe shot me an annoyed look.

"Try not to get yourself killed. Nadine, where the hell did they go?" his forehead crinkled with lines. Hands akimbo on his hips, he made a noise in the back of his throat.

"Thanks for the advice," I snapped but he waved me off as his coworker relayed information.

Prick. Knocking hard into his shoulder and on past him, I started down the incline before he'd given the word. A frustrated shout sounded behind me and I quickly realized I'd put myself into deep yogurt. Yawning wide at my feet was a fast approaching drop and I had only seconds with which to gather my aching legs beneath me and push off into a flying leap at the archway ahead.

The impact was like pitching headfirst into a frozen pool. Grimacing, I managed to pull myself to safety.

Someone landed hard behind me, gravel crunching under their soles. "Not completely useless, then," he remarked, clicking off the safety on his rifle. "Come on, people, let's get with the program."

His men were already on the hunt, lunging for another part of the separated sanctuary.

"We can stop them from jumping into the ocean if we hurry," Nadine's voice blared through his radio, her heavy breathing punctuating each word. "Don't shoot at the girl, you idiot!"

"We'll meet you there." He snagged my arm, dragging me to the wall. He let go of me only to drop into a crouch, hands fitted together to support my foot as I pushed off of him and over onto the other side.

"This way," I huffed, canting to the left. "I can hear gunshots!" I exclaimed, throwing myself down another gravel slope and leaping at the jut of stone rising out of the ocean.

My gloved hands found purchase on a small bit of stone right as Rafe flew like a flying squirrel through the air and latched onto a spot beside me with a grunt. To my chagrin, black dots started to swarm my vision. I stretched for the ledge above me when it disintegrated like sand under my fingers. With a yelp, gravity pulled me down and I swung from my left hand, dangling over jagged stone awash in frothy waves.

"Hand. Give me your damn hand!" He snapped, as if I could comply with his impossible demand. Realizing his error, he leaned over with a hiss and yanked me over onto solid ground. "You're welcome."

He kept one hand on my elbow. Fuck. How weak was I? I mean sure, I didn't do shit like this at all. The most exercise I got was a daily jog in the park. "SHELLY?!"

Golden hair streaming behind her like sunlight, my best friend was doing all she could to keep up with her kidnapper while avoiding hails of bullets and snipers. In heels of all things. High fucking heels.

"What the hell is she doing?" I groaned, shoving away from the cliff side to throw my ass over another slope of gravel. If I didn't shave off all my flesh from my bones after this then maybe a divine being did exist.

"Do you have a death wish?" Rafe shouted, leaping down from the ledge to wrap an arm around my middle.

"Get off of me," I shoved at him only to let out a piercing screech as the slope bottomed out into the ocean. I clung to Rafe as he unhooked a rope from his belt and sloppily threw it. "Please work, please work, please work, please-" a scream ripped from my throat as the rope caught on a branch sticking out of the cliff side, effectively yanking us both up and into an arc through the air.

"Lucky boy," he sang, praising himself as he cleared the ledge. "Oh, dammit." We slammed hard onto another steep path of gravel, knocking us apart and sending us careening toward uneven terrain.

"Jump!" I shouted as the path came to an end and continued a few feet away. Crashing onto the other side, my legs gave way and the gun in my pocket skittered over the edge.

A shot rang out next to me. "Huh, I missed," Rafe frowned when the figures ahead of us ducked behind an angel statue. Its wing shattered as he fired again and again. "Argh, he's getting away!" To my horror, Shelly followed Nathan. With a chink of the next round, he slung the weapon over his shoulder and tore after them in hot pursuit.

"Shelly!" I screamed, running on shaking legs. Rafe didn't stop to help me up the next ledge and it took all I had within me to make it over.

And by the time I had, Rafe was lowering his rifle like a defeated man, shoulders stiff beneath his winter coat. I pushed forward, only for him to yank me back and stop me from starting down the next slope.

"What are you doing?" I cried, only to catch sight of the plane bobbing like a seagull on azure waves. And the pair of figures swimming along its flank. I watched, helpless, as Shelly was pulled into the plane, the hatch shutting closed against a storm of bullets. With a jerk, the plane started forward, taking off into the skies.

Unable to hold myself upright any longer, I collapsed to the ground. What if that was the last time I ever saw her again? I'd gotten her wrapped up in this. I never should have come to Italy. Eyes stinging with unshed tears, I dug my gloved fingertips into the ground.

"Nadine, send a jet to my location," Rafe's voice sounded far away, a nettled timber braiding with displeasure.

"Alright. But before you start lashing out again at everyone, I think you should hear me out."

"Talk," he sighed, dropping his rifle to the ground with a clatter.

A pause. "They're going to Madagascar."

My eyes widened.

Joy practically lit him up and a smile curled his lips. "You just earned your keep for today, my girl." Then he froze, glancing down at me with resignation. " If you want to go home I can null our contract and send your friend back after we retrie-"

"I'll join your team. Just help me get her back."

He clicked off, dumbfounded. "You'll what?"

"You won't be needing a jet," Nadine interrupted, right as a metal ladder slammed into the ground by Rafe with a resounding clang. "Get your asses up here," her voice came from the radio and we both looked up to see her standing on the side of the cathedral looking down into the cliffs below.

"We'll get her back," Rafe promised me, eyes flashing with determination as he gestured for me to begin the climb. He knew I was battered and weak. That I could fall and crack my skull open on the rocks. Without a word, I shakily pulled myself to the top and accepted Nadine's outstretched hand.

As Rafe met up with her to discuss her findings, I stared at the horizon. The sun was sinking fast, melting into the ocean in liquid gold. Bunching my hands into fists I spun around to fix them both with a resolute glare.

"Teach me how to shoot."


	9. Chapter 9

In the span of only a few weeks, I had travelled to more countries than I could dream of visiting in a lifetime. Now I was about to add Madagascar to that list. I almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all, but I couldn't. Not when my best friend had been kidnapped by a man I had idolized once upon a time.

My gaze darted to my phone on the sink countertop. No new messages waited for me, sending a lead weight of fear plummeting into the pit of my stomach.

Drying off in one of the six bathrooms in the mid-cabin of one of Rafe's private jets with a towel that easily cost more than my rent, I weighed my options. A few hours ago, I was drafting up plans with Rafe and Nadine, scoping out the King's Bay area through maps and determining our next course of action. The lack of any communication with Shelly finally drove me over the edge and I'd lost my shit.

"_She'll be back before you know it. I look out for my partners, Liz. You have to trust me on this."_

"_What if she gets hurt?! I have to call the cops, I gotta do something. What if they do something to her or they just leave her in the middle of nowhere?!"_

"_Give the cops a few days to do what I can do in a few hours. I promised we'd get her back, didn't I? Safe and sound. Easy peasy - whoa, whoa, you alright?"_

Blinking against tears, I sucked in a deep breath. Tried to forget about how Nadine had dragged me away to take a shower because I'd started hyperventilating and sobbing and freaking out on them, imagining Shelly's face on the news. Headlines claiming she'd been missing for days, weeks, that a body had been found, her remains -

"Jesus Christ, calm down," I chastised myself, blowing out gusts of air and leaning my weight on the sink. I couldn't afford to act rashly. I didn't have much to go on with Rafe, but we were literally on Nate's tailwinds this very moment. He'd called her insurance before - I doubt he'd be this cool and collected if he thought he might lose his only leverage. _Despicable._

Rafe wasn't wrong about the cops taking a while to act, especially when she was on her way to a different country. That took a whole new legal process to wade through. Not to mention I first had to prove she'd been taken against her will, as she was a legal adult. That posed a whole new bag of complications.

"Goddammit," I choked. I was an adult - I should know what to do. I itched to dial those three simple numbers, to hear the calm voice of a dispatcher reassure me exactly how she'd be saved, that everything would be fine.

I reached for my phone.

"You slip and hit your head on the tiles?" Nadine's voice sounded on the other side of my bathroom door, startling me into dropping my phone into the sink with a clatter. I thought she'd left me alone. Guess she didn't trust me enough.

"Not yet," I replied, clumsily retrieving my phone. "Yeesh, barely had ten minutes in there."

"Ten more than he'd like," came her response, from somewhere farther away. "At least you got some shut eye. Everyone needs to cool down."

With a snort, I shook my head. "What, is he worried about the water bill?"

Phone in hand and towel wrapped around my body, I exited the bathroom, flooding the connecting area with citrus scented steam. Nadine lounged against the wall by the private bedroom door like a cat waiting for her next meal to fall into her claws. Amusement glinted in her eyes at my comment, yet she remained silent.

I knelt to grab a clean change of clothes for myself from my suitcase on the floor; droplets of water ran down the length of my bare arms.

"Need something?" I dared to ask when the Shoreline leader didn't so much as budge.

"No," she said.

"Any news about Shelly?"

Something unreadable flickered in her gaze. "Don't worry about her. Nate likely thought she needed rescuing after I chucked him out a window. His companion was thrilled she went after them, so I doubt he'd let her stick her pretty little neck into any danger."

Companion? I squinted, trying to make sense of it all. Why would she go with them in the first place? "Yeah, Rafe said something similar about Nate's hero complex - wait, you _what?_"

Some of the mercs had mentioned her catapulting the infamous treasure hunter several stories into the air during the Rossi shootout. I'd chalked it up to fiction at the time, too focused on proving my worth during my charting of the cathedral's tunnels to give it much thought.

Nadine tilted her head to one side, something wicked in her expression. "Being a smartass got him far in life, or so he claimed. Figured he needed a nudge in the right direction when he didn't want to play nice."

"He had the crucifix the entire time," I trailed off, piecing together what she left unsaid. It wasn't the waiter who had it, as I'd suspected. The next time Nadine caught up with him, he was trying to help me and Shelly get out of the estate. Only to leave us there when his getaway had arrived.

"Why the hell would you think he might pass the artifact to _me_, of all people?" I snapped at her, knuckles bleeding white around the bundle of clothes in my hand.

Her response was immediate, defensive. "Rafe pointed you out as a person of interest and you got caught in the crossfire. Fair game." She stalked forward to meet me head on. It took all I had not to drop my gaze as she stared me down. "If I had my way, I'd pack up and forget about this damn treasure."

"But you need the funds," I finished for her.

She nodded, casually lifting a hand to toss some of her hair over her shoulder. "Your debt's been paid off, no strings attached. You don't look the sort to want more of Rafe's coffers at the end of this whole debacle. So why?"

My mouth opened, but no words came out. Cheeks burning with shame, I tried again. "I cared too much about what others said when I told them what I wanted to study. And paid the price for it."

In every sense of the word, I thought grimly. Everyone I'd shared my heartfelt future aspirations with had said that becoming a historian was a complete waste of my time and money. Everyone except for my parents, which only added to my immense feelings of shame and guilt. They supported me no matter what. Yet I'd listened to what others said like a sheep blindly following the flock. I was too quiet, they said, too timid to teach and too meek to speak confidently about my research. And maybe they were right, but I had been passionate. Ah, but passion doesn't pay the bills, they'd argued. I'd never regretted heeding their advice more in my life.

"In other words, you had no backbone." Her words were cutting, merciless.

My breath hitched in my throat.

"Then grow one," she continued. "I'd say your lumbar region is covered, if you didn't tear it all off on those gravel hills."

I blinked at her like a deer in the headlights, stunned. I'd expected her to lambast my choices, put me down even. Nadine reminded me of Shelly in some ways, I realized, only she was battle-hardened and viscous. A small warmth flickered in my chest, and I drew in a shaky breath.

"Nah, the glutes are still here. Sore as hell though."

Nadine raised a brow and her lips quirked at the corners, like she was trying not to laugh.

I _wanted_ to do better. I wanted to be selfish, too. Shelly's encouragement from a few days ago bubbled to the forefront of my mind, buoying me up. For too long I'd lived doing what others wanted of me.

My fingers curled into fists, the bite of metal a phantom sensation on my palms.

"Can you teach me how to shoot?" I asked her.

"A chicken could do more damage than you."

She wasn't wrong, I begrudgingly thought to myself. Still, I didn't want to be a burden.

As if she could read my thoughts, Nadine huffed. "You're here to provide info, or did you forget that? Now get going."

* * *

Rafe was exactly as he'd been when I'd left to go cool off: hunched over maps and charts, a file balanced on one knee and the end of a pencil's eraser resting against his chin in careful deliberation. Nimble fingers flipped through pages, marked up margins with lead and ink, and scrolled through information on his phone. The culmination of my adrenaline-harried research lay open on the table, scribbles and harsh lines slicing across the page of my sketchpad. Every now and then he'd pause to refer to what I'd written, mulling things over.

And like water to a drain, I was drawn to the ever unfurling weed spiraling out of control within his heart. Festering and blooming into something altogether rotten. I wandered closer, admiring the study of a man absorbed in his ambitions.

Everything I wanted to be.

"Then I'll place another party here," Nadine was saying from her place beside him, tracing a line on a map with a red pen. "Secure this side and move in from the south."

"Leave some for later," he said, a hint of mirth in his tone when she unhooked her radio from her belt loop.

I frowned. He'd been livid just a few hours ago, raging at the very air and stone and sea for letting Nate get away from him. Part of me thought him mad - another was intrigued by whatever history they had, recalling his unexpected moment of vulnerability down at the dormitories. The anger and hurt he struggled to hide behind a mask of indifference.

Then again, I wasn't one to talk, given my freakout earlier.

"I thought you wanted no stone left unturned?" she playfully quipped back.

His expression became bitter. "Clearly, he found a stone to turn over." _While I've been slaving away for fifteen years,_ his unfinished sentence practically reverberated throughout the lounge.

"And now we have a lead," she said, trying to shift his course of thought onto another path.

While he continued to grouse about how it had been under their noses the entire time, Nadine folded her arms.

"He killed my men looking for it. Do you think I find anything about that impressive?"

"I don't care if you think it's impressive - if we'd just searched every little spot like I'd said to -

"Man, Nate sounds like some kind of monkey," I interjected, causing Rafe to glance up at me in alarm. Like he'd just noticed I had returned, so engrossed in his work was he. "Dude had to be swinging everywhere to get around the cathedral. Then he goes and takes all the bananas with him."

Rafe sniffed with disdain, clearly unamused at me having compared a legendary hoard of treasure to a common fruit.

Nadine, however, visibly brightened and sat up taller in her seat. "Actually, monkeys don't really eat bananas."

"They don't?" I asked, perplexed.

"Oh, not this again," Rafe sighed as I took my seat across from them.

The plush leather was so soft it practically molded around my aching body, encasing me in luxurious calm. Refreshments lined the marble table, accompanied by square clear bowls of Russian salad and Alaskan King Crab. I reached over and helped myself to some grilled sea bass, munching thoughtfully as Nadine lightly shoved him before continuing.

"I mean, they can, but they don't in the wild. They mostly stick to bugs, nuts and leaves. Besides, bananas are too sugary."

"No kidding, they sure hurt my stomach," I said, washing down my meal with a flute of water. A flute. Of water. I threw a befuddled look Rafe's way, questioning the decisions of those with lined pockets.

When he shook his head in disbelief, Nadine gestured at me. "See? Bananas aren't good for anybody."

"Look, everyone lumps monkeys together with bananas. Pardon me for feeding one what I thought they ate. Then the ungrateful fucker goes and claws my up face."

"I told you not to get too close to him."

"You grabbed one and hugged it!" he exclaimed. "Of course I'd think they're harmless after that."

I snorted into my drink, sending bubbles rippling across the surface.

He ran a hand through his gelled hair, sending a strand cascading over the line of his brow. He was kind of - _nope, stop right there_, I told myself, scrambling to chase away those thoughts with more productive ones. Like getting Shelly back.

Leaving my sketchpad to Rafe's perusal, I snagged a scrap of paper off the table and started redrawing everything I could remember from my research. It was better I memorized everything, that I knew without a doubt what it was I was looking at. Starting in the west, then moving counterclockwise across a rough outline of King's Bay, I drew long, stretching columns. Twelve in total.

"Here," he said, pushing my sketchpad back across the table when he caught sight of what I was doing.

"That's okay," I said, blindly reaching out to push it away from me. Something warm grazed the tips of my fingers; I snatched my hand back as though I'd been burned. Wonderful, I thought, closing my eyes. This guy was an asshole and I'd dated enough of them disguised as nice guys to know any shade of arrogance wasn't a good idea. It was time I set up more of a moral barrier against any...interest I might have entertained in the guy.

Setting down my pen and scanning my work for a moment, I looked up to find Rafe watching me, utterly confused by my reaction.

"So, how'd you guys meet?"

"He found me online," Nadine answered smoothly, breaking open a crab leg.

"You're looking to hire a paramilitary?" Rafe asked with a small laugh. "Not at all what I thought you'd ask for after we get my treasure. Although," he picked up my sketchpad and fanned through the pages, "there might be more stuff to uncover. I might just invest, if you can prove you're worth investing in."

I fixed him with a displeased glare. "I thought I said you were only to look through Avery's section."

But Rafe just kept on flicking through the pages, stopping now and again to marvel at something. He even whistled at whatever it was he saw, and Nadine's brows rose so high up on her forehead that I thought I might break out in hives from the suspense of not knowing what they'd found.

"You drew this?" Nadine asked, taking the book from him and turning it around to reveal a gaudy design of a woman wearing a train of gold coins, all sewn together with rusty chains and barnacles and fishhooks. Sterling silver in the shape of anchors adorned her forehead in the shape of a crown, and her bodice dripped with silver fish scales.

"It wasn't accepted, and for good reason," I blurted, practically lunging out of my seat to snatch it back from her. "I tabbed what you could look at, so please respect my privacy."

Rafe sipped from his flute, swirling the contents like he was a king overseeing a party. "Little difficult when you have tabs _everywhere_. And they're not color-coded."

"Then don't snoop if it's not about Avery."

"Look, I don't get why you're so upset. People gobble up fantasy themed designs all the time, and after I show the world the most legendary pirate's treasure, it'll be all anyone can think about. Then you can submit all your pirate designs and voila, success." He smacked his lips together as a thought dawned on him. "You should get into business. Money makes the world spin, darling."

She pursed her lips. "A grey langur design would work. Don't go to all that trouble."

"Nadine, I get you're fascinated with them, but who's going to pour their cash into -

"They're cute. And you don't have to be so greedy."

"Greed is good. And besides, the less of those grey whatchamacallits there are the better."

"A what?" I interrupted, noting the rage sparking in Nadine's eyes at his implication.

"More monkeys," Rafe said. He picked up his phone and grunted at something he saw. He'd been fiddling with it for hours. It was a wonder he got anything done.

With a shake of her head, Nadine said, "A grey langur. Long-furred guy. I like the way their faces are ringed with hair."

"They tear off people's faces and eat them," he deadpanned.

She called him a baby and he puffed out a breath of air, sending the strand of hair dangling over his brow aflutter. "Anyway, Shoreline's a good investment. I can get you a contract after this is over."

"I make the decisions, Rafe." She glanced over at me. "That's what you want after this is over?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I was just wondering how you two met is all."

"Pretty obvious how," she said with a shrug.

But then Rafe looked up from his phone with a strange expression. "Oh," he said, elongating the vowel in that trademark way of his. "You can't be serious."

"What?" asked Nadine, stabbing her fork into the crab.

"Aren't you two a couple?" I asked uncertainly at the utter look of incredulity on his face. "I was curious how you guys got together."

The moment the words left my mouth, he winced like he'd been kicked in the groin and Nadine looked about ready to hurl up her crab. She leaned away from him, her fork scraping loudly against her plate.

"Whoa, watch the china!" he cried, leaning over to lift her wrist so that the utensil was above the plate. "Jesus, how many times do I gotta ask everyone not to scratch my stuff? That's good money there!"

"Oh come off it. It gives it character."

"For the love of - does no one around here know the value of money? It's time I teach you all the virtues of greed, success and ambition."

I shut my sketchpad closed. "The virtues of greed, huh?"

Without missing a beat, Rafe ran a hand down his face in dramatic anguish. "Sullivan said something similar about us, didn't he?"

"Power couple," Nadine bit out with a grimace.

He groaned and flopped back against the plush leather. "Who do I have to hire to come across as badass as I am, huh? We look great together but apparently not in the way I thought we did."

Nadine nodded, holding up her glass. "You're far from my type, dear. Nothing personal."

"Well that's obvious," he snorted. "You sure weren't into anything we tried." She shot him a dirty look and he held up both of his hands. "What? It's true. Regardless, I need to exude an air of intimidation and power when anyone sees me. Romance doesn't inspire that, now does it?"

"You do realize what 'Power Couple' means, don't you?" I asked him.

His eyes narrowed. So they had been a thing in the past, then, I thought, musing over the little tidbit they'd revealed. To my surprise, both of them looked rather green in the face remembering whatever intimacy it was they'd shared. Was it that bad of a relationship?

Nadine hummed, picking at more of her crab. "Why are we having this conversation anyway?"

Rafe swept out a hand in my direction. "Don't ask me! Let's get on with the show now. Break time's over, people."

"Alright, I got it," I laughed, inwardly bemoaning this revelation. I hoped to whatever god existed that I'd be too focused on this operation to consider anything more than a glance or two. It'd been a few years since I had allowed myself to go on a date, and the thirst was showing.

I turned my paper around for them to see.

"What are those mountains?" Nadine inquired.

"Watch towers," I corrected her, adding a few more lines to the sketches as if that might help her better visualize it.

"Wow, that's rough," Rafe snickered, and I shot him a glare.

"Hang on a moment. Where's that map?" Nadine said, digging around for it. Her partner in crime easily slid one out of a file he had next to him, presenting it to her with a smirk.

Together, they bent their heads toward the map.

"There's structures all around the volcano," Nadine said, pointing to each one with a finger. "But why does that matter? We just need to sniff out the extinct fire rock, yeah?"

"Abandoned outposts," Rafe murmured, blowing up a 3D view of an online map. That wasn't Google Maps, I realized with a shock. What the hell kinda tech did this guy use? "And there's a bunch of those watchtowers all over."

I smiled, barely able to contain myself. Drumming my fingers against the tabletop, I addressed Nadine. "Say, you saw a brass scale back in the cathedral, right? What was on it?"

"The crucifix and a bunch of coins," she answered.

"Greed killed you if you got grubby fingers," I said, making sure not to direct that statement at Rafe, who was no doubt ready to refute the idea. And maybe myself, considering I'd thrown away my internship and my hostess job for this. Thankfully, my employers were understanding when I'd called to say I didn't think it was a good fit for me. My boss at the design company, however, had asked me to take some time off to consider things and then give her an answer after I got back. I didn't deserve that chance.

With a mental shake, I smoothed a hand over the map. "You mentioned circles on the map on the floor. Could those be the watchtowers?"

"How should I know? We're supposed to go to the volcano, according to the map."

To my surprise, Rafe spoke up. "Avery was the most wanted man in the world in his time. He had to flee somewhere. And who was chasing him?"

"The English," she said.

"Bingo," he purred, earning a dubious look from her. "Which means those watchtowers were either the property of his pursuers, or those of his crew. Both of which are a good payout for us."

Both of us stared at him, stunned.

"Do you honestly think he dumped his treasure in some old tower?" Nadine asked.

"Not quite. Now listen closely, because we're going in big. Liz will look through the watchtowers with me. Nadine, station your men around the outposts and blow them to kingdom come after you comb through them."

"I don't understand," Nadine said.

"Apparently Shelly does," he said, sliding his phone over to us. "And I want to know, too."

My eyes rounded. The image of a copper coin shone up at me, clutched between the fingers of a man in the passenger seat of a plane. Nathan's fingers. Did Rafe have Shelly's phone number? How come she didn't message me - no, she hadn't messaged him, I realized as I saw the strange scroll of digits at the top. A code of sorts.

I blew the picture up to get a better glimpse, and audibly gasped. "That's the volcano on the coin."

"What do you think that baby could be?" Rafe asked, cupping his chin in his palm.

"A map?" Nadine blurted while I remained silent. "It's directing them there."

With a frown, I bit my bottom lip. "How do you have this?"

"Answer and you shall be rewarded."

Rather than find his ego grossly overblown like Nadine, who was pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes as if to stave off a headache, a strange glow lit me up. I liked the challenge.

Snatching the reins of a dopamine rush, I drew up the most likely but most outlandish conjecture I could think of. "Take this with a grain of salt. I noticed a lot of weird stuff back in the cathedral. A few times we found some weird contraptions, almost like puzzles. We never messed with them of course, but if Avery had just completed the Gunsway Heist, he'd need somewhere to hide his stash."

"Gon on," Rafe prompted when I fell silent, unsure.

"What if those coins were tickets to join his crew?"

He tipped his head to the side, his eyes crinkling at the corners with confusion. "Oh? Why do you think that?"

"Think about it. What's the one thing everyone would have left with?"

Nadine grabbed his phone, peering at the grainy image. "I'm not following. Why invite other pirates? He has the treasure he wants. Doubt the guy would share it."

Rafe's mouth became a straight line, and I wondered if he'd never even considered this as a possibility.

"Avery had multiple crucifixes of St. Dismas made. All leading to the cathedral. As the most wanted man in the world at that time, he'd need people he could trust in his arsenal to get him away from his pursuers. What's the one thing a man like Avery would want?"

"Easy. More wealth," was Rafe's immediate response.

With a nod, I pointed at the coin. "Say he invited only other rich pirates, putting them through tests that rooted out the greedy. I can't say for sure since we never dabbled in those mechanisms, but if those are indeed puzzles that led down to the map of King's Bay you found, then the only ones who made it to Madagascar are the ones Avery trusted."

It was like I'd zapped Rafe with a taser. He jolted in his seat, pupils dilating into large black orbs. "Color me impressed." His body shook with laughter. "This is us at fifty percent. Those sniveling losers won't be able to handle it when they find us at the finish line."

"Care to explain before you start gloating?" his partner cut in.

A gleam lit his eyes up. "The Gunsway is pennies, Nadine. _Pennies_. If Liz is right about this, then all of these pirates who went with Avery pooled their wealth together into the same bank account. Ah, this is even better than I ever imagined."

"It's just a guess," I warned him.

"How do you know they pooled their wealth?"

I shrugged. "Like I said, it's just a guess. But why would a pirate help out another pirate?"

She answered by digging her teeth into crab, tearing the delicate meat out of its shell.

"If that guess bears fruit, we'll talk about your percentage." He winked at me, glacial gaze freezing me to the spot and flushing me with heat. _Focus, you idiot. Don't mix business with pleasure, that's what everyone says._

"What about Shelly?" I asked, desperate to pretend he wasn't having this affect on me.

"Pardon me," he said, causing Nadine to stand up so he could cross the distance and sit down right next to me.

As I struggled not to turn redder than a tomato, Rafe placed his phone into my hands. A red dot blipped on the screen in real time over a map. One with specific coordinates and a timer and all sorts of other information I could barely begin to process.

"This is Madagascar," I said the obvious, before noting the dot before a scrawl of text. "_Road Hogg Rentals?_"

Rafe folded his arms across his chest with a smug look. "Go on," he said, pride making his voice a pleasing low rumble.

He was tracking Nate, that much was obvious. "I didn't think the infamous Drake would dare share his passcode with anyone. You must be quite the charmer," I teased him.

"Flattery doesn't work on me sweetheart, though I do appreciate the compliment."

"I wasn't complimenting you," I said, but he leaned over to point at a dot on the screen. Something like cedar and mint tickled my nose. I stiffened as his warmth heated my side.

"Shelly's registers as pink."

More like a fuchsia, I thought to myself. My gaze zeroed in on her dot, breath caught in my throat like a frog. "How?"

When I peered up at him, he lazily grinned, revealing shining white teeth. "I told you to give me a few hours, didn't I? Shelly will be back before you can count your cut. Why don't we go stir the pot for little Nate, hm?"


	10. Chapter 10

The Central Highlands of Madagascar was one of the most beautiful places I'd ever seen - next to Italy, of course. Its arid, rust colored stretches of land spread out into flat, smooth swathes of sun-baked sand, red clay and dottings of indigenous vegetation, mirrored by vast blue skies above.

Shelly would be _living_ for this.

I inhaled the heated air to center myself. Forced the tremors in my hands to fade away. I would trust Rafe for the time being.

_Please let this be the right decision_.

Rafe was busy with something on his phone in the passenger seat. The more I considered his situation, the more I was convinced that he was working on things related both to his business and to his expedition. An impressive feat, I supposed. Yet even with our little head-start on Nate's party, he still expected perfection from his team. And I was more than happy to oblige him.

I'd always been somewhat of a perfectionist, but I never knew I had such an intense craving for recognition within me. Perhaps it had always been there. A scratch I could never quite itch. Was Rafe the same?

"The devil is in the details," he'd said on the drive up to the first watch tower. "Make sure your eyes are peeled, ladies."

Had we time to spare, I would have explored a lot more of Madagascar to get a better idea of what was around here. We'd already passed by a small waterfall with a spacious cave curtained behind it and it took all I had within me not to beg for a quick stop. There was Shelly to steal back and treasure to find, after all. I wouldn't jeopardize either to sate my curiosity.

Several winding turns and slippery mud slopes later, we finally reached the top of our first of many promising discoveries.

The watch tower rose like a beacon over the land, dilapidated but still well preserved even in its old age. A tree farther up the incline provided decent coverage from the sun. When the tires squealed and refused to drag us up any higher, Nadine let the vehicle roll back and parked in the shade.

"Time for Plan B," she said, hopping out of the vehicle.

"Not that Plan B," Rafe said with a snicker, earning a disgusted look from her in return. "Alright, alright. Not funny. I'll see myself out now."

As my employer got out of the jeep, I reviewed my notes with a flutter trilling in my chest. "It's beautiful," I exclaimed, staring up at its abandoned skeleton.

"That old thing?" Rafe asked.

"Yes, that old thing. Anyway, it's definitely from Avery's era," I said. "Whoever was the commander of that tower was the first in line to keep away pursuers. Can you imagine what that must've been like?"

Another thrill coursed through me at the thought. As I greedily absorbed the scene in front of me, Rafe stared at me like I'd lost my marbles.

"I'll...give it points for still standing," he finally said.

"You can wait in the shade," I told him, jumping out of my seat and landing with a splash in the mud. He ducked back as droplets went flying. Freckles of mud splattered all over my bare arms and exposed shins.

He frowned. "I'll join you. Need to stretch my legs after that _peaceful_ little drive."

Nadine poked her head around the front of the vehicle to say, "Plenty more where that came from."

"Joy," he quipped back, closing his door behind him. "Be a doll and work your magic on this hill, please." Rafe adjusted his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and gestured for me to head up the broken staircase. "Ladies first."

When I made it to the top of the landing, I used a jutting of stone to help me reach the ledge of the ruins and pulled myself up and over. Rafe was only about a head taller than myself, so rather than bother with trying to reach it through an impossible jump, he took the same path I did.

He straightened to his full height, squaring his shoulders back and lifting his chin. "Not bad," he said with a small grin. Then he strolled right on past me to gaze out over the horizon. "I wouldn't necessarily pick this sort of interior, but the view could be serviceable."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? With a befuddled shrug, I glanced around my surroundings, starting at the thing at my feet.

"Rafe, look."

Crouching down in the middle of the floor, I swiped my hand through a film of dirt on top of a sigil of a coiled, winged serpent.

"Ouroboros?"

"Not exactly. It's Christopher Condent's sigil. Captain of the Fiery Dragon. His crew operated out of Madagascar."

Rafe made a noncommittal grunt. If he took those damn shades off it'd be so much easier to read him.

"Billy One-Hand? The guy who made his entire crew multimillionaires after just two years of brigandry?" I tried again.

"Haven't heard of him. But if his treasure's with Avery's…we'll have landed the biggest discovery known to history."

"We just may," I said with a proud smile, dragging a finger over the sigil's looping curves. Warm grains of sand bit against my skin. "No pirate captain worth his salt would dare team up with so much treasure on the line and the East India Company on their trail. If a single one of them turned coat they'd be on their way to the gallows."

Rafe crouched down beside me to examine the sigil. His elbow knocked into mine and I leaned away, busying myself with recounting what I knew of the pirate to him. Right as I was about to delve into more fantastical theories regarding Avery and his missing treasure, I stopped myself. No way could I start blabbing about some mythical treasure island without any concrete evidence. I'd look even more of a fool than I already did to him. What if he decided I wasn't worth the trouble anymore? I wanted to see this through.

He tilted his head and stared at me for a long moment. A trickle of sweat ran down my back. "I shudder to think what goes on in that head of yours. Do you have files for everything in there?"

"That'd make things a lot easier," I laughed, flipping through my notebook to start sketching the sigil on a blank page.

"History class must've been a breeze," he murmured, looking oddly peeved. "Just take a picture."

"I remember things better when I draw them out," I said. "Was history a bad subject for you?"

He snapped a picture of the dragon and snorted. "Do you think I took school seriously?"

"Business goes over my head so I imagine you'd need a good education for that."

"When your Dad passes on the business to you, you learn the ropes quickly."

I hummed, adding a few more lines. "Fair enough," I said. "Actually, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"How are you juggling both your job and the expedition? I can't even imagine how taxing that must be."

Rafe's reply was immediate and tinged with scorn. "Do you think I'm taking a vacation here?"

"That was a compliment. I doubt I could muster up enough courage to do either one of these things myself," I added when his brows furrowed.

An awkward silence stretched between us. The sound of tire tracks squealing against mud droned on in the background.

"I didn't mean to snap at you," he said after a slight hesitation. "I'm used to people fishing for things from me."

"That doesn't give you the right to assume that about me."

When I gave him a pointed look, he huffed and removed his shades to squint at me. "I don't know Shelly but she made it clear she was interested in taking things I've worked hard to secure. Yes, I inherited my parents' business. But I'm not letting their hard work go down the toilet. And it's not like they're helping me out, either. This is my job and mine alone."

Ah, so he was paranoid. Sure, I didn't know what he put up with on a daily basis - but to suggest that Shelly might be able to make off with his money? It was so absurd I nearly ruined everything by sputtering into laughter.

"Everyone around you is after what Shelly is interested in, Rafe. I will admit she can be a tad...upfront about her intentions, but I'm sure a businessman of your ilk should be able to handle her." I winked and he choked out a laugh.

Something in his gaze shifted, becoming a mixture of bitterness and vulnerability. "And you?"

I finished up my sketch and stared into the distance. "Money...can make people do crazy things. I don't want to see what sort of person I might become if I let it get to my head. So I'll tag along with you to track down this treasure - if it still exists - but I don't want to get too greedy. My debt's already been paid. That's more than I could ever dream of."

He made a contemplative noise and stared at me. "You seem far more ambitious than you admit."

I closed my notebook.

"That's what keeps you alive, you know? Without ambition, what's left? I'd rather go out in a burst of flame than settle for mediocrity."

The sun overhead shone down and caught the lens of his shades as he slid them back onto his face. I stared into a blaze of orange as he said, "Let's get a move on."

By the time the chill sweeping over my body had subsided, Rafe was already jumping down from the ledge and calling out for me to follow. Leaving me utterly shaken, as though I'd stared into a mirror and hated that I liked it.

"Holy - that's my girl!" he raised his voice, running up the stairs and onto the hill. As I raced toward the ledge, I saw the Jeep crawling its way up the mud-slope, its front bumper connected to a winch.

* * *

Cresting the hill and driving around the curve of stone revealed our prize: a gigantic volcano looming over the flat red sands. I couldn't help the note of awe from ringing in my voice as I lost my head over it.

"I've never seen one before! I had no idea they were that huge!"

"A sight to behold, isn't it?" Rafe practically purred as he gazed up it.

Nadine pursed her lips. "A big fire rock. Amazing."

"You could sound a little more appreciative," Rafe said.

"No."

After another stretch of awkward silence, I said, "So we're meeting up with Shoreline over there?"

Nadine grabbed her radio and clicked on. "South squad, report."

"Yes, ma'am. We've just arrived and have laid out the dynamite as you instructed."

"Good, don't do anything. We'll be there soon."

"Yes, ma'am."

She floored the gas, streaking down the road. Red dust swirled in our wake and I gazed up at the land around us with wonder. Even Rafe seemed to be pretty taken by the scenery, snapping photos here and there. My gaze met his in the rearview and he paused to stare back at me for a second.

"_You seem far more ambitious than you admit."_

I quickly averted my gaze and sat back down in my seat.

* * *

The towers Shoreline had split up to investigate were laid along the main road leading up to the volcano. This would act as an obstacle for Nate and his party should they hope to advance. While Nadine wasn't too keen with this plan, she saw the effectiveness of it.

I stepped out of the vehicle together with the two of them and went to go meet with the group's leader. The heat was even more oppressive here. No trees shaded the tower, only the vicinity, and tall grasses caused my calves to itch. Across from the tower was the remains of a building. Walking along its roof was a man strapped in gear and hefting a scary looking weapon.

"Sniper," Rafe leaned down close to tell me. "Mazdur LDR. Incredible power and accuracy, but the recoil is a bitch."

"I'm gonna take a guess and say you don't want your enemy anywhere near you."

He nodded. "Not unless you've a death wish."

"Rafe," Nadine called.. "Be a dear and check the tracker for me."

He strolled over at a leisurely pace and I trailed after him, running my hands along the stone walls. Juttings of brick walls dotted the premises. It was easy to imagine Nate crouched behind one, his finger teasing the trigger as he took in his surroundings.

The click of metal above me sent my pulse rocketing; a Shoreline member stared down at me, offering a small grin as I stared up at him. Steeling myself, I offered a shaky wave in return. Images of dead bodies flashed before me, the feel of their cooling skin against my hand in the tall grasses of Scotland.

Perhaps it had been in self-defense. I didn't know the truth, but what I did know was that Nate had taken someone's life. Several lives, in fact. And that fact sent a wave of ice reverberating through me.

The crunch of gravel behind me had me breaking out in a cold sweat.

"Go behind something and take a leak before we go. My men aren't going to look and Rafe's hardly the peeping tom."

"Right," I said, taking a deep breath.

"I'll be nearby," she added as I strode past her, startling me.

God, was I that obvious? I was beyond relieved that I wouldn't be due for my menstrual cycle in a few weeks as I took care of business in the tall grasses. Despite Nadine's reassurances, I wasn't used to doing anything like this at all and that just made me even more nervous. I supposed Nate's party pulling up to see me taking a piss in the grass would be enough to stop them in their tracks for a moment.

"Done?" she asked when I returned to the vehicle.

"Thanks," I smiled at her, and she nodded, revving the engine. "All right, boys. I'll let you know when to light it up. If you see the girl, you keep her safe."

The leader of the group respectfully agreed to her orders and saw us off, hugging a rifle to his chest.

"Plans have changed," Rafe announced, turning around in his seat to glance at me in the back. "Nate's coming this way. We can't cross that bridge there so we're going on foot and getting picked up. Once we're at the tower, it's a waiting game."

Waiting game? What did he mean by that? Weren't we going to investigate the tower?

"Let's hurry up," Nadine said, parking before the rickety wooden bridge.

"That...doesn't look too safe," I said. Said bridge swayed every now and then as if it could barely hold itself in place. Each step along its planks did little to alleviate my worries.

Rafe smirked knowingly at me. "The last one was taller."

"It wasn't this wobbly!"

"Don't dawdle or it might break beneath you," he said, clapping me on the shoulder with a hand. Readjusting his shades, he let go of me to swagger on down the bridge. His every step sent the thing jostling.

This man was going to be the death of me, I thought to myself. Not wanting to look weak in front of them, I forced myself to stare straight ahead at his back. At the spot behind his shoulder blades where sweat had darkened the material of his shirt.

My limbs felt like jelly by the time we'd crossed and my pulse was shaky.

"Oh, looks like she made it after all," Rafe exclaimed. "Unfortunately, I won't be giving you a raise. So buckle up."

I threw him a dirty look. "One of these days you're gonna fall off that high horse of yours."

"At least I have one," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Now, come on. Don't want to keep our man waiting."

"I'll shove him off the next bridge," Nadine murmured.

* * *

Rafe flopped back against the passenger seat and flung one arm out the window.

"How's it going? Any treasure yet?" he asked the Shoreline driver.

"Afraid not, sir."

Seated in the backseat next to Nadine, I managed to collect myself from that horrific bridge experience by taking in the scenery. The further north we traveled, the worse the humidity became.

"Remind you of the good old days?" she suddenly spoke up, a note of dark pleasure in her tone.

She seemed to always be in a good mood whenever she was getting back at him. Not that I could blame her.

With a snort, Rafe busied himself with checking that his hair was still in its perfectly gelled coiffe. "Funny. I'll have you know I wasn't there to sightsee."

"Oh, you've told me," she said, cresting over a slight incline. "I'm still surprised you didn't melt into a puddle. You must've been a gangly little man boy."

"Your point? I'd like to see you last a week."

Nadine was serene. "Give me a week and I'll have everyone there under my finger. Any updates?"

Was this about his incarceration in Panama?

Flicking through his phone, Rafe pulled up his tracking-thingymabob and smirked. "Nate just can't resist the chase. This yahoo's taking the same route."

"They're already here?" Nadine exclaimed, furious.

"Look, I figured Sullivan would haggle for a cheaper rental car. And I was right. Full-speed to that volcano, you hear me? You got everyone else up there, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I didn't think you were going for something so reckless," she bit out.

The driver began the slow crawl up the winding hill, passing by stone buildings and statues. Madagascar stretched away below us, making us seem like ants crawling up an anthill.

"Ma'am," the driver said, glancing through the rearview mirror at Nadine. "The bridge ahead has been drawn. We'll cross it and then draw it up to stall for time. We have men stationed atop the premises who will pull us up. Everything's in position."

"What about the jeep? If they come through they'll see it."

Rafe snorted. "We shove it off the cliff, dear. I want your armored men ready to drop."

I nearly choked. Weren't these things expensive as hell?

Apparently Nadine was used to his antics, for she simply shrugged and addressed the driver. "Good work."

That's when it hit me. "You're going to blow it up!?"

"Expected you to catch on quicker, but that will have to do."

How had he figured this all out in such a short amount of time? I stared at him, eyes rounding.

"And that's when we get back Shelly, darling. Now excuse me while I ready our getaway. I have a feeling this is only the beginning to our little treasure hunt."

* * *

**AN: ****I have rewritten this chapter 6 times because nothing I wrote felt right. The last rewrite resulted in over 20k words for this chapter alone and that was not good lol. All of the research I'd done became info-dumps. The art book I bought barely had any commentary regarding the locations the game featured and next to none on Rafe. I also had a difficult time beginning the process at both hinting at Rafe beginning to see a different path through the reader (but only slightly) as well as digging deeper into the reader's ambitious natures and how scared she was of it consuming her. I hope I managed to capture both somehow. ****I may have to back and edit this when I'm feeling better but for now I feel happy with what I have. With this necessary development out of the way, it's time for more action and high stakes in the next chapters.**

**For the life of me I couldn't figure out how Rafe and Nadine were able to get Shoreline up on top of the tower in this game so I had to come up with one. It's the best I could come up with rofl. *Cries in having no beta reader for this.**

**2020 is not shaping up to be a good year for anyone. I hope you all are staying safe out there. Please take care.**


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